t  ffifofn  Bo0fB.— JFrontfspitcf. 


'You  have  ruined  mamma's  pretty  vase."  p.  105. 


THE  TWIN  ROSES, 


BT  THE  AUTHOR  OP 

'IRISH  AMY,"  "NELLY,  OR  THE  BEST  INHERITANCE,"  &C. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

No.  1122  CHESTNUT  STREET. 


NEW  YOKK:   599  BBOADWAY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by  the 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 

for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAP.  I. — A  HASTY  PROMISE 7 

II.— THE  BABIES 35 

III. — THE  BO'SE  TRANSPLANTED 6 1 

IV.— Miss  BROWN 82 

V. — MISUNDERSTANDING 101 

VI.— THE  BREACH  WIDENS 126 

VII.— NELLY 140 

VIII.— DEATH 158 

IX. — FARTHER  CHANGES 178 

X.— KOSY'S  SECRET 196 

XI. — AN  UNWELCOME  VISITOR 214 

XII.— A  CONTEST 228 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

CHAP.  XIII.— KITTY 240 

XIV.— Miss  BROWN 261 

XV.— BECKY 278 

XVI.— KITTY 290 

XVII.— THE  MEETING 303 

XVIIL— KEUNION ..  310 


THE  TWIN  ROSES, 


ffOW  THEY  WERE  TRAINED. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   HASTY   PROMISE. 

S  Mrs.  Mark  at  home?"  asked 
Mrs.  John  Campion,  hastily,  as 
she  shook  the  snow  from  her 
skirts  on  the  steps  of  her  sister- 
in-law's  house,  and  then,  anticipating 
the  servant's  reply,  she  exclaimed,  in 
a  tone  of  vexation,  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say  that  she  has  gone  out  this  horrible 
evening !  I  made  sure  of  finding  her  at  home; 
and  I  want  to  see  her  so  much  !" 

"  She  a'n't  gone  far,"  said  the  woman  who 
had  opened  the  door,  and  who  seemed  rather 
inclined  to  resent  Mrs.  Campion's  remark. 
"She  only  went  across  the  common  to  carry 

1*  7 


8  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

something  to  old  Miss  Brown.  We  had  some 
venison  stew  for  dinner,  and  she  thought  may- 
be the  old  women  might  relish  it,  as  she  hain't 
had  no  appetite  to  speak  of  lately,  and  her 
folks  don't  know  how  to  cook,  no  more  than 
the  pigs.  If  yon  want  to  see  her  very  much, 
you'd  better  come  in  and  wait;  for  she  won't  be 
long,  I'm  sure." 

"  Just  as  likely  as  not  she  will  stay  all  the 
evening,"  said  Mrs.  Campion.  "  When  Miss 
Brown  gets  going  on  the  subject  of  her  feelings 
and  complaints,  she  never  knows  when  to 
stop." 

"  She  don't  get  a  chance  to  get  going  very 
often :  may-be  that's  the  reason,"  replied  Re- 
becca, between  whom  and  Mrs.  Campion  there 
seemed  to  exist  a  sort  of  antagonism.  "  She 
never  can  say  a  word  to  her  own  folks  without 
being  snapped  up.  If  ever  the  curse  of  in- 
gratitude fell  upon  any  one,  it  will  fall  upon 
Martha  James  and  her  husband,  for  the  way 
they  treat  that  old  lady.  But  you'd  better 
come  in;  for  here  comes  Mrs.  Campion  this 
minute." 

"  Good-evening,  Anne,"  said  an  alert  little 
woman,  entering  the  porch  as  Becky  spoke, 
and  making  sundry  energetic  movements  to 


A.   HASTY   PROMISE.  9 

get  rid  of  the  clinging  snow.  "  Isn't  this  a 
storm?  But  why  does  Becky  keep  you  stand- 
ing at  the  door?" 

"  Because  she  couldn't  make  up  her  mind 
whether  she  wanted  to  come  in  or  not,"  said 
Becky,  answering  for  herself,  as  she  retreated 
to  her  own  domain.  "  I  suppose  she  can  de- 
cide, now  you  have  come." 

•'What  upon  earth  have  you  there,  Vero- 
nica?" asked  Anne.  Her  sister-in-law  care- 
fully unfolded  her  shawl,  and  displayed  a 
small  black  kitten  cuddled  up  in  her  arms. 
"  Well,  I  declare !  What  a  prize  !  A  present, 
I  suppose,  from  old  Miss  Brown." 

"  No,"  said  Veronica.  "  Poor  Miss  Brown 
has  not  even  a  cat  of  her  own  to  give  away. 
This  little  thing  I  found  astray  upon  the  com- 
mon, and  it  mewed  at  me  so  piteously,  and 
purred  so  joyously  when  I  took  it  up,  that  I 
had  not  the  heart  to  abandon  it  in  the  snow- 
storm." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that  now.  I  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  something  more  important 
than  kittens." 

"In  one  minute,"  said  Veronica.  "Just 
take  off  your  bonnet  and  make  yourself 
comfortable,  while  I  find  some  milk  for 


10  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

this  poor  little  thing.  I  am  sure  it  is  half 
starved." 

Anne  made  an  impatient  gesture,  but  fol- 
lowed her  sister's  advice,  and  settled  herself  in 
a  comfortable  arm-chair-,  while  Veronica  pro- 
vided a  saucerful  of  warm  milk  for  the  kitten, 
which  it  lapped  with  immense  enjoyment. 
Veronica  now  produced  her  knitting,  and,  set- 
tling herself,  in  the  other  arm-chair,  waited 
for  her  sister-in-law's  communication, — not,  it 
must  be  confessed,  with  any  appearance  of  ab- 
sorbing interest.  She  knew  how  often  Anne's 
mountains  produced  the  very  smallest  of  mice; 
and  she  expected  nothing  larger  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion. 

"Veronica,  do  you  remember  Daisy  Birch, 

who  was  at  school  with  us  in  T ?"  asked 

Anne. 

"  Little  Daisy  Birch  !  Yes,  certainly.  She 
roomed  with  Addy  Brush,  and  afterwards 
married  her  brother.  An  idle  little  thing  she 
was,  always  in  some  scrape  or  other,  but  very 
pleasant  and  lively.  What  of  her  ?" 

"Veronica,  Daisy  Birch  is  dying  in  the 
Sisters'  Hospital  at  this  minute!" 

"Why,  Anne!  Daisy  Birch !';  exclaimed 
Veronica,  effectually  roused,  and  dropping 


A    HASTY   PROMISE.  11 

her   knitting.     "Are   you   sure?      Who   told 
you?" 

"I  have  seen  her  this  very  day.  Veronica. 
I  should  say  she  could  not  last  twenty-four 
hours.  The  nurse  says  she  may  live  a  week 
or  two;  but  it  does  not  seem  possible." 

"They  have  a  great  deal  of  experience,  you 
know,"  remarked  Veronica.  "  But  Daisy  Birch ! 
Poor  little  thing!  How  could  it  happen?" 

"Very  easily,"  replied  Anne.  "She  has 
been  living  down  in  New  Orleans,  and  had 
come  as  far  as  this  place,  on  her  way  to  New 
England,  where,  it  seems,  she  has  some  friends, 
who  she  hoped  might  take  care  of  her  chil- 
dren ;  for  she  has  twin  babies  about  ten  months 
old, — dear,  rosy  little  girls  as  I  ever  saw. 
Well,  it  seems  that  somewhere  on  the  road 
she  met  a  person  from  her  native  place,  who 
told  her  that  the  old  aunt,  or  whoever  it  was 
she  intended  to  go  to,  was  dead,  and  there  was,* 
no  one  of  her  father's  family  left  in  the  place.- 
Perhaps  the  shock  was  too  much  for  her:  at 
any  rate,  she  was  taken  very  ill  at  the  hotel 
here,  and  the  landlord,  not  knowing  what  else 
to  do,  sent  her  to  the  hospital,  babies  and  all. 
It  was  by  the  merest  chance  that  I  found  her. 
I  went  up  to  the  hospital  to  carry  some  money 


12  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

I  had  been  owing  old  Mrs.  Sweeny,  our  wash- 
erwoman, who  has  been  there  this  long  time 
with  her  leg,  you  know." 

"I  know,"  said  Veronica.  "I  have  been 
to  see  her  a  number  of  times." 

"You  never  told  me,"  said  Anne.  "Yon 
might  have  done  my  errand  as  well  as  not. 
But,  however,  I  went  into  the  wrong  ward,  by 
mistake,  and  there  was  this  poor  little  woman 
sitting  bolstered  up  in  bed, — for  it  seems  she 
cannot  lie  down, — with  her  babies  beside  her. 
She  knew  me  in  a  minute,  and  called  me  by 
name;  but  I  did  not  recognize  her  in  the  least 
till  she  told  me  who  she  was.  You  never  saw 
any  one  so  changed.  Her  hair  is  as  gray  as 
Miss  Brown's." 

"She  used  to  have  such  superb  chestnut 
hair,"  said  Veronica.  "  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  more  beautiful  hair.  And  she  must  be 
young,  too.  She  cannot  be  nearly  thirty.  But 
did  you  hear  any  thing  of  her  circumstances? 
Is  she  poor  ?" 

"  She  says  she  has  hardly  a  cent  in  the  world. 
You  know  she  made  a  runaway  match." 

"  I  know  there  was  some  trouble  or  other 
about  her  marriage.  I  remember  I  took  a 
great  dislike  to  John  Brush  the  only  time  I 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  13 

ever  saw  him, — partly,  perhaps,  because  he  was 
Addy's  brother;  though  I  know  he  had  the 
reputation  of  being  fast  even  then." 

"Well,  it  was  a  runaway  match,  as  I  said. 
Daisy  was  an  orphan,  and  a  good  deal  of  an 
heiress.  Addy  got  the  credit  of  cooking  up 
the  business,  and  I  dare  say  she  had  a  hand  in 
it.  Daisy's  guardian  refused  his  consent;  but, 
as  uhe  property  was  all  her  own,  of  course  he 
had  no  control  over  her.  I  heard  of  them  a 
few  years  ago,  boarding  at  the  St.  Charles  in 
New  Orleans,  and  making  a  great  dash.  It 
appears  that  Mr.  Brush  was  killed  in  a  duel 
about  three  months  before  these  babies  were 
born,  and  when  the  aifairs  came  to  be  ex- 
amined, there  was  nothing  left  of  Daisy's 
property.  All  had  been  spent  or  wasted,  and 
she  was  literally  destitute. 

"  Her  money  and  jewels  were  taken  to  pay 
their  bill  at  the  hotel.  Finally,  Addie  took 
her  into  her  house,  till  after  her  babies  were 
born,  and  then  coolly  told  her  she  would  be 
obliged  to  provide  for  herself,  and  advised  her 
to  set  up  a  school." 

"  Fancy  Daisy  teaching  school !"  exclaimed 
Veronica. 

"  Fancy   tiny  woman   teaching  school    with 


14  THE  TWIN    ROSES. 

twin  babies  only  three  months  old,  and  nobody 
but  herself  to  take  care  of  them!"  said  Anne. 

"But  Daisy  Birch,  above  all!  Why,  she 
was  the  greatest  dunce  in  the  school.  I  don't 
believe  she  was  off  the  roll  half  a  dozen  times 

in  the  whole  three  years  I  spent  at  T ; 

and  then  it  was  only  on  the  days  when  I  was 
monitress,  and  because  I  used  regularly  to 
c.itch  her  and  put  her  in  her  right  place  before 
I  rang  the  bell.  She  had  fine  musical  talents, 
I  remember,  and  she  did  use  to  practise  indus- 
triously." 

"It  was  her  music  which  helped  her  at  last," 
said  Anne.  "Some  clergyman  interested  him- 
self and  found  her  a  place  in  a  church-choir, 
where  she  received  a  pretty  good  salary ;  and 
then  she  took  pupils.  But  her  strength  soon 
gave  out.  She  was  attacked  with  a  cough, 
and  used  to  have  slight  turns  of  bleeding  at 
the  lungs  whenever  she  sang.  At  last  she 
had  a  severe  attack,  which  laid  her  up  entirely, 
and  the  physician  said  there  was  no  hope  of 
her  ever  being  able  to  sing  again.  It  was  then 
she  formed  the  resolution  of  coming  North  to 
find  her  father's  friend ;  and  the  clergyman  who 
had  befriended  her  at  first,  got  up  a  purse  for 
her  and  paid  her  passage  up  the  river.  But 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  15 

she  was  sick  two  or  three  times  upon  the  road, 
and  she  thinks  some  of  her  money  was  stolen. 
At  any  rate,  she  has  only  three  dollars  left, 
and  the  children  are  likely  to  go  to  the  poor- 
house,  for  aught  I  see.  That  is  what  I  came 
to  tell  you  about.  I  told  Daisy  at  once  that 
I  would  take  one  of  the  children  and  bring  it 
up  for  my  own,  and  that  you  would  adopt  the 
other.  And  I  want  you  to  go  up  to  the  hos- 
pital the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  con- 
firm my  promise,  that  the  poor  thing's  mind 
may  be  entirely  at  ease." 

A  flush  of  something  like  indignation  rose 
in  Veronica's  face,  and  it  seemed  for  a  moment 
that  she  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak ;  for 
she  bent  her  eyes  steadfastly  on  her  work,  and 
plied  her  needle  busily  for  some  moments  be- 
fore she  answered.  At  last  she  said,  calmly, 
though  without  looking  up, — 

"  I  don't  think  you  should  have  said  such  a 
thing  in  my  name  without  consulting  me.  It 
is  a  very  serious  matter  to  take  a  child  in  that 
way," 

"Well,  I  declare!"  exclaimed  Anne,  flush- 
ing in  her  turn.  "  If  I  had  supposed  you 
stood  so  extremely  on  your  dignity,  Veronica, 
I  am  sure  I  would  not  have  ventured  to  use 


16  THE   TWIN    KOSES. 

your  name.  I  did  not  know  you  thought 
yourself  such  a  grand  person." 

"  It  is  not  that  I  stand  on  my  dignity,  Anne ; 
though  I  must  say  I  do  not  relish  having  pro- 
mises made  in  my  name  without  my  know- 
ledge," returned  Veronica.  "  But  it  is,  as  I 
said  just  now,  a  very  serious  matter  to  adopt  a 
child.  It  is  taking  upon  oneself  a  great  re- 
sponsibility." 

"You  were  ready  enough  to  patronize  that 
miserable  scarecrow  of  a  cat,"  said  Anne,  look- 
ing at  the  new-comer,  which  was  purring  on 
the  rug  before  the  fire.  "You  would  take  in 
a  hippopotamus  if  it  should  come  and  purr  at 
you  ;  but  you  care  nothing  for  a  poor  orphan 
child." 

"  I  should  dearly  love  to  hear  a  hippopota- 
mus purr !"  said  Veronica,  laughing. 

"  It  is  no  laughing-matter,"  said  Anne,  in- 
dignantly. "There  I  left  poor  Daisy  with  her 
mind  so  relieved  and  settled;  and  now  I  must 
go  to-morrow  and  tell  her  that  she  must  leave 
the  poor  baby  to  charity,  for  you  won't  take 
it,  after  all.  I  thought  better  of  you,  Vero- 
nica; I  did,  indeed." 

"You  will  please  say  nothing  further  in  my 
name,  either  one  way  or  the  other,  until  I  give 


A   HASTY   PEOMISE.  17 

you  authority,"  said  Veronica,  decidedly.  "  If 
poor  Daisy  is  disappointed,  the  fault  is  yours, 
not  mine;  for  you  had  no  right  to  make  such 
a  promise.  Moreover,  I  have  not  yet  said  that 
I  would  not  take  the  child.  I  must  have  time 
to  think,  and  to  consult  my  husband.  You 
must  see  yourself  that  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence between  taking  in  a  stray  kitten  and 
adopting  a  baby  to  bring  up  as  one's  own. 
The  kitten  needs  no  care  beyond  food  and 
lodging  and  kind  treatment ;  but  the  child,  if 
it  lives,  requires  not  only  food  and  clothing,  but 
discipline  and  education,  both  moral  and  men- 
tal. It  is  an  immortal  being,  to  be  trained  for 
immortality." 

"  But  that  is  so  much  the  more  reason  for  its 
having  a  good  home,  Veronica,"  remarked 
Anne,  in  rather  a  subdued  tone. 

"  True ;  and  it  is  also  a  reason  why  the 
charge  should  not  be  undertaken  lightly  or 
unadvisedly,  but  soberly,  reverently,  discreetly, 
and  in  the  fear  of  God.  Moreover,  it  is  a 
thing  which,  once  being  done,  cannot  be  un- 
done. If  my  kitten  is  troublesome,  I  can 
shut  it  out  in  the  wood-house ;  or,  if  worse 
comes  to  worst,  I  can  have  it  drowned.  Even 
if  my  mythical  hippopotamus  should  become 


18  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

a  burden,  I  could  probably  sell  him  to  the 
circus-people.  But  if  I  take  a  baby,  I  cannot 
cast  it  off  in  that  way.  I  must  keep  it  how- 
ever it  turns  out, — whether  it  grows  up  healthy 
and  handsome  or  diseased  and  deformed,  good 
and  dutiful  or  altogether  the  reverse." 
>^  "You  might  send  it  to  the  orphan-asylum, 
for  that  matter/'  said  Anne. 

"Hardly,  I  think.  If  the  child  goes  to  the 
asylum  now,  it  will  never  remember  any  thing 
different,  and  will  look  forward  to  any  change 
as  an  improvement;  but  to  bring  it  up  as  your 
own,  petted  and  indulged  as  the  only  child  is 
sure  to  be,  until  it  is  old  enough  to  think  and 
remember  and  make  comparisons,  and  then 
turn  it  over  to  a  public  charity,  would  be  an 
extreme  of  cruelty  hardly  to  be  justified  under 
any  circumstances." 

Anne  fidgeted,  and  blushed  a  little.  The 
truth  was  that,  in  the  little  thought  she  had 
bestowed  upon  the  matter,  she  had  finally 
ended  all  with,  "And,  after  all,  if  the  child 
turns  out  badly,  I  have  only  to  send  it  to  the-- 
asylum  at  last,  instead  of  at  first." 

She  changed  her  ground  a  little. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  it  would  give  you  a 
great  deal  of  trouble?" 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  19 

"As  to  that,  I  am  not  apt  to  mind  trouble, 
and  I  am  used  to  children,  and  like  them. 
No,  I  did  not  reckon  the  trouble;  though  a 
child  of  that  age  nearly  doubles  the  work  of 
a  household  like  ours.  But  Becky  does  not 
mind  work,  and  she  is  fond  of  children.  As 
to  the  expense,  I  think  we  might  afford  it 
well  enough,  since  Mark  has  an  increase  of 
income,  and  we  are  entirely  out  of  debt." 

"John  told  me  that  this  new  arrangement 
would  be  a  line  thing  for  Mark,"  observed 
Anne.  "  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  still  at 
work  for  Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  hoped  at  least 
you  would  give  that  up,"  she  added,  glancing 
at  her  sister's  work, — a  very  delicate  and  beau- 
tiful piece  of  knitting. 

"As  to  that,  I  had  long  ago  promised  to  iill 
this  particular  order  for  Mrs.  Kirkland,  and  I 
did  not  think  it  would  be  fair  to  disappoint 
her.  But  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  give  up 
my  fancy-work,  Anne.  It  is  a  pretty  and 
pleasant  occupation,  and  fills  up  many  late 
evening  -hours  when  Mark  must  be  away  and 
I  can  neither  read  nor  sew.  It  makes,  too,  a 
very  nice  little  addition  to  my  private  purse. 
No;  I  do  not  think  I  shall  give  it  up  just  at 
present." 


20  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Well,  you  arc  certainly  two  of  the  oddest 
people,  you  and  Mark !  But  you  have  always 
taken  your  own  way,  and  I  suppose  you  always 
will,"  added  Anne,  in  a  tone  of  virtuous  resigna- 
tion: "so  there  is  no  use  in  talking  about  that. 
I  do  wish,  though,  that  you  would  make  up 
your  inind  about  this  baby.  You  put  me  in  a 
very  painful  position  if  you  refuse;  though  I 
suppose  you  will  say  it  is  my  own  fault.  But 
I  did  feel  so  sure.  I  thought  you  would  snatch 
at  the  chance." 

"And  so  I  should,  my  dear  sister.  If  I  were 
to  consult  my  own  inclination  alone,  I  should 
say  at  once  that  I  would  take  the  child ;  but  it 
is  this  very  fact  that  makes  me  desirous  to  see 
the  thing  upon  all  sides.  Our  house  has  been 
very  lonely  the  last  year,"  said  Veronica,  her 
eyes  filling  with  tears  as  she  looked  at  the  little 
chair  which  stood  in  the  corner, — "more  lonely 
than  you  could  think,  unless  you  had  suffered 
the  same  experience  that  we  have.  You  have 
never  had  any  children  in  your  house;  and  you 
cannot  imagine  the  vacancy " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Veronica,"  said  Anne, 
as  her  sister  paused  and  busied  herself  with 
her  knitting.  "  I  am  sure  you  mean  to  do 
what  is  right.  Only,  I  am  always  in  such  a 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  "21 

hurry  to  have  things  settled,  and  I  felt  so  sorry 
for  Daisy,  and  this  plan  looks  so  plain  and 
easy.  But  when  do  you  think  you  can  de- 
cide?" 

"I  will  try  to  let  you  know  to-morrow,  or 
the  next  day  at  farthest.  And  now  tell  me 
more  about  poor  Daisy.  Does  she  seem  com- 
fortable ?" 

•'  As  much  so  as  she  can  be — poor  thing! — in 
the  common  ward  of  a  hospital.  The  nurse 
seemed  very  kind  ;  and  Daisy  told  me  herself 
that  she  had  every  attention/' 

"  In  the  common  ward  !"  repeated  Veronica. 
"Surely,  Anne,  her  condition  might  be  im- 
proved in  that  respect.  There  are  private 
rooms  at  the  hospital,  I  know;  and  she  might 
have  one,  if  anybody  would  be  answerable  for 
the  expense.  I  think  we  might  undertake  that 
between  us  for  the  little  time  she  is  likely  to 
live.  It  is  only  four  or  five  dollars  a  week. 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  the  poor  thing  having 
no  privacy  for  herself  or  her  children." 

"  To  be  sure  it  would  be  a  great  deal  better. 
I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Anne.  "Of  course 
I  will  bear  my  share  of  the  expense.  The  ward 
is  quiet  enough,  to  be  sure;  but  it  is  not  like 
having  a  room  to  oneself,  after  all." 


22  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  Does  Daisy  seem  aware  of  her  own  con- 
dition ?" 

"Oh,  yes.  She  says  she  felt  her  doom  was 
sealed  when  she  left  New  Orleans,  and — There ! 
she  wants  very  much  to  see  a  clergyman,  and 
I  promised  to  send  Dr.  Courtlaud  up  to  her 
directly.  I  forgot  all  about  it  till  this  minute. 
What  shall  I  do?" 

"Cannot  you  send  Harry?" 

"  Harry  has  gone  home,  and  John  is  at  some 
committee-meeting  or  other.  It  will  have  to 
wait  till  morning." 

"And  she  may  die  in  the  mean  time,"  said 
Veronica.  "It  is  not  late,  Anne,  and  the 
storm  is  over.  Suppose  you  go  round  to  the 
doctor's  with  me?  If  he  receives  the  message 
to-night,  he  can  take  the  next  car  and  go  up 
at  once.  I  am  sure  he  will  do  so,  under  the 
circumstances." 

"  Why,  it  is  terribly  snowy,"  said  Anne, 
hesitating,  "  and  it  makes  my  walk  so  much 
the  longer.  I  did  tell  Daisy  I  would  send  him 
to-night;  but  I  don't  suppose  it  will  make 
much  difference." 

"  For  shame,  Anne !"  said  Veronica,  indig- 
nantly. "  Would  you  neglect  the  request  of  a 
dying  woman,  and  such  a  request?  Daisy  may 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  23 

die  during  the  night,  or  she  may  be  too  far 
gone  to  see  the  doctor  in  the  morning." 

"  Oh,  I  will  go.  You  need  not  put  on  that 
injured  air,  Veronica,  because  I  rather  objected 
to  walking  half  a  mile  in  the  snow,  after  being 
out  all  the  afternoon.  But  you  do  love  to  make 
out  that  all  your  fellow-creatures  are  miserable 
sinners." 

Veronica  made  no  reply,  knowing  that  the 
beginning  of  strife,  especially  with  Mrs.  John 
Campion,  was  like  the  letting  out  of  water;  and 
the  sisters-in-law  were  soon  on  their  way  to  the 
parsonage.  The  doctor  had  just  come  in  from 
a  long  walk,  and,  in  the  luxury  of  dressing- 
gown,  slippers,  and  a  new  book,  was  basking 
in  the  light  of  a  coal  fire.  He  sighed  deep 
and  long  as  he  heard  Aune's  errand,  and 
looked  first  at  the  fire  and  then  at  his  boots 
and  great-coat. 

"I  will  gQ,  of  course,"  said  he;  "but  I  wish 
I  had  heard  of  it  before.  I  was  making  a  visit 
in  that  part  of  the  town  not  an  hour  ago." 

Anne  felt  a  little  conscience-stricken,  but 
she  made  no  remark ;  and  the  sisters  presently 
separated,  and  returned  each  to  her  own  fire- 
side. 

Veronica  put  away  her  hood  and  shawl,  and 


24  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

seated  herself  once  more  by  her  bright  fire. 
The  room  was  not  large,  and  was  very  simply 
furnished,  but  there  was  an  aspect  of  comfort 
and  elegance  about  it  which  is  often  wanting 
in  apartments  of  more  pretensions.  The  fur- 
niture was  of  chintz,  which  had  evidently  seen 
some  service,  though  it  was  whole  and  clean. 
The  paper  was  of  a  pretty  sea-weed  pattern  in 
pale  buff,  and  made  a  good  background  for 
the  three  or  four  good  prints  and  the  one 
beautiful  oil  landscape,  the  pride  of  Mark 
Campion's  heart,  which  adorned  the  walls. 
The  corners  were  furnished  with  shelves,  which 
were  filled — nay,  crowded — with  books,  new 
and  old,  with  magazines  and  papers ;  and  on 
two  or  three  beautifully  carved  brackets  were 
placed  plaster  casts  and  an  antique  vase.  These 
brackets  were  the  work  of  Mark's  own  hands, 
the  amusement  of  many  a  long  winter's  even- 
ing, and  had  cost  Anne  a  great  de.al  of  wonder 
as  to  how  Veronica  could  endure  to  have  such 
a  litter  about  her  sitting-room.  A  basket  work- 
table  stood  near  the  chimney-corner,  piled  up 
with  the  bright-coloured  wools  used  by  Vero- 
nica in  her  fancy-work, — another  subject  of 
wonder  to  Anne,  who  thought  if  Veronica 
must  do  such  things  she  might  at  least  keep 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  25 

them  out  of  sight.  Indeed,  Anne  was  in  the 
habit  of  bestowing  so  much  wonder,  advice, 
and  reproof  upon  her  sister-in-law  and  her 
concerns  that  it  is  no  matter  of  surprise  that 
Veronica  sometimes  became  a  little  impatient, 
and  that  Becky  openly  expressed  the  wish 
that  Mrs.  John  Campion  would  mind  her  own 
business. 

Voronica  took  her  work  once  more ;  but  she 
plied  her  needle  slowly,  and  often  let  it  fall 
upon  her  lap,  as  she  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the 
fire.  At  last  she  rose,  and,  taking  a  candle 
from  the  mantel-piece,  she  lighted  it  and  passed 
into  an  adjoining  bedroom.  Taking  a  key 
from  her  dressing-case,  she  opened  a  locked 
drawer,  and  sat  thoughtfully  gazing  into  it. 
The  contents  were  not  such  as  would  have 
seemed  to  a  stranger  worth  locking  up.  There 
were  little,  half-worn  frocks  and  aprons,  rows 
of  neatly-folded  socks,  two  or  three  pairs  of 
little  shoes,  a  broken  doll,  and  some  other  play- 
things. 

Veronica  leaned  her  head  on  the  drawer 
and  wept  bitterly  for  some  moments.  Then, 
seemingly  controlling  herself  by  a  great  effort, 
she  dried  her  eyes,  and  proceeded  to  take  out 
one  garment  after  another  from  the  drawer, 


26  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

and  look  it  over.  Finally,  as  with  a  sudden 
impulse,  she  laid  them  back,  and  locked  them 
up  once  more. 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  said  she  to  herself.  "  I 
would  rather  work  my  fingers  off  than  see 
another  child  wearing  my  Anne's  clothes." 

The  sound  of  a  latch-key  in  the  front  door 
now  announced  an  arrival,  and,  hastily  re- 
storing the  key  of  the  drawer  to  its  place,  she 
smoothed  her  hair  and  went  to  meet  her  hus- 
band. Mr.  Mark  Campion  was  a  tall,  strongly- 
made  person,  light-haired  and  yellow-bearded, 
with  a  pair  of  bright,  dancing  blue  eyes,  and  a 
wonderfully  guileless  childlike  expression  for 
a  grown  man.  He  lifted  his  little  wife  from 
the  ground,  and  gave  her  as  hearty  a  kiss  as  if 
they  had  been  separated  for  months  instead 
of  for  hours. 

"Tired,  little  woman?"  he  asked,  tenderly. 
"  You  have  had  a  long  evening  here  alone.  I 
thought  I  should  never  get  away.  Such  a  lot 
of  people  coming  and  bothering !  and  last  of  all, 
just  as  I  thought  myself  released,  comes  little 
Wicks,  in  a  towering  rage  about  the  mis- 
prints in  his  last  article.  However,  I  made 
short  work  of  him: — sent  him  home  to  get 
sober." 


A    HASTY    PROMISE.  27 

"Is  he  drinking  again?"  asked  Veronica. 

"  Very  badly,  I  should  say.  He  won't  last 
long,  at  that  rate.  I  pity  his  poor  family  ;  for 
he  is  a  devil  under  the  influence  of  brandy, 
though  amiable  enough  at  other  times.  But 
what  has  troubled  my  little  woman  ?"  added 
Mark,  gently.  "  Now,  there  is  no  use  in  any 
denials.  These  eyes  witness  against  you." 

"  Nothing, — at  least,  nothing  new,"  said  Ve- 
ronica :  "  I  had  occasion  to  look  into  Anne's 
drawer,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone.  Her  hus- 
band only  answered  by  another  kiss  and  a 
closer  caress.  Mr.  Mark  Campion,  though  he 
usually  talked  a  great  deal,  was  a  man  who 
knew  when  to  be  silent. 

"  But  you  have  had  no  supper,  and  not 
much  dinner,"  said  Veronica,  presently,  rousing 
herself.  "You  must  be  very  hungry.  Becky," 
she  added,  as  that  discreet  damsel  opened  the 
door,  "  Mr.  Campion  has  had  no  supper." 

"  Well,  I  know  that,"  returned  Becky,  who 
generally  resented  as  an  imputation  any  at- 
tempt to  give  her  information  respecting  house- 
hold matters.  "  I  knew  he  would  come  home 
hungry  as  a  bear;  and  so  I  just  warmed  up  the 
stew  that  was  left,  and  made  some  cocoa. 
You  won't  be  the  worse  for  a  cup  yourself,  Mrs. 


28  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

Mark,  after  tramping  about  in  the  cold  and 
snow." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  been  out 
in  this  storm?"  said  Mark.  "What  possessed 
you  ?" 

"  I  have  not  been  far.  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  presently,"  replied  Veronica.  "  Come, 
wash  your  hands,  and  eat  your  supper  while 
it's  hot." 

"Here  is  an  encouragement  to  dissipation, 
now,"  said  Mark,  seating  himself  before  the  in- 
viting tray  which  Becky  brought  in.  "Such  a 
supper  is  enough  to  tempt  a  man  to  stay  out  till 
eleven  o'clock  every  night  of  his  life." 

"Ah,  but  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  you 
will  have  such  a  supper  every  night,"  said 
Veronica,  as  she  poured  out  his  cocoa.  "Be- 
sides, don't  you  know  Dr.  Woodman  says 
people  who  eat  suppers  invariably  go  to  de- 
struction ?" 

"He  should  make  a  special  exception  in 
favour  of  proof-readers,  sub-editors,  and  literary 
hacks  in  general,"  remarked  Mark,  making  a 
vigorous  attack  upon  the  provisions  before  him. 

"Ah,  it  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  call  your- 
self a  literary  hack,"  sa"id  Veronica,  laughing. 
"  It  would  not  do  for  anybody  else." 


A   HASTY   PEOMISE.  29 

"Very  likely,  my  dear.  We  call  ourselves 
miserable  sinners  every  day,  but  we  don't  like 
other  people  to  call  us  so." 

"  Well,  and  there  is  some  reason  in  it,  too," 
remarked  Veronica.  "One  does  not  like  med- 
dling. I  see  a  good  many  faults  in  my  own 
household  management  every  day,  but  I  don't 
like  to  have  Anne  looking  into  my  pantry  and 
telling  me  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  keep  my 
sitting-room  in  such  a  litter." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  mind  it  at  all  when 
my  mother  gives  you  hints  about  housekeep- 
ing," said  Mark.  "  I  saw  you  listening  and 
looking  as  if  she  had  been  an  oracle,  while  she 
was  showing  you  how  to  cook  that  bit  of 
venison  you  were  going  to  throw  away  as 
useless." 

"That  is  quite  another  matter.  Your 
mother  has  every  right  to  advise,  and  she 
always  does  so  in  a  gentle  and  ladylike  way. 
I  never  saw  any  one  more  delicate  about  in- 
terference than  she  is.  I  only  wish  she  had 
stayed  over  till  to-day." 

"Why,  what  new  emergency  has  come  up? 
Has  Zuzu  got  the  apoplexy  from  over-feeding, 
or  are  you  thinking  of  taking  a  cat  upon 
trial?" 


30  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Something  a  great  deal  more  serious  than 
either,"  replied  Veronica.  "  Something  I  wish 
to  talk  over  with  you  when  you  have  finished 
your  supper.  As  for  Zu's  apoplexy,  I  think 
it  would  be,  as  Becky's  mother  said  about  the 
gosling,  a  happy  release;  and  as  to  the  cat,  it 
has  taken  me,  as  you  see/'  she  added,  pointing 
to  the  little  purring  heap  upon  the  hearth- 
rug. "  But  this  is  really  a  grave  matter, — 
something  which,  once  being  done,  cannot  be 
undone." 

Mark  saw  that  his  wife  was  in  earnest,  and, 
settling  himself  in  his  favourite  arm-chair  and 
taking  the  cat  on  his  knee,  he  proceeded  to 
give  his  undivided  attention  while  Veronica 
related  her  conversation  with  her  sister-in-law 
and  the  events  which  gave  rise  to  it.  When 
she  had  finished,  she  looked  anxiously  at  her 
husband  for  his  opinion,  which  he  did  not 
seem  in  a  hurry  to  give.  He  sat  for  some 
time  smoothing  the  kitten's  fur  and  looking 
thoughtfully  at  the  fire.  At  last  he  said, — 

"I  wonder  whether  any  woman  in  the  world 
but  Anne  would  have  done  such  a  thing.  I 
wonder  if  she  even  thought  of  consulting  John 
before  she  promised  to  take  the  child  herself." 

"  I    dare  say  not,"  replied  Veronica.     "  It 


A    HASTY    PEOMISE.  31 

would  have  been  only  a  form,  at  any  rate ;  for 
he  never  contradicts  her  in  any  fancy." 

"Still,  the  observance  of  forms  sometimes 
saves  a  good  deal  of  trouble,"  returned  Mark; 
"  and  even  John  now  and  then  rebels.  She 
would  be  in  a  pretty  predicament  if  he  should 
refuse  to  take  the  child,  after  all.  But  wo 
know  Anne  and  her  ways  too  well  to  be  sur- 
prised at  any  eccentricities  of  hers.  So  we 
will  put  her  out  of  the  question."  He  sat  silent 
a  while  longer,  and  seemed  in  danger  of  drift- 
ing into  one  of  his  customary  brown  studies, 
when  a  small  scratch  from  the  kitten  aroused 
him. 

"  Weil,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  serious  matter,  as 
you  say.  What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,  if  you  see  no 
objection,"  said  Veronica,  simply  and  gravely, 
but  with  a  flush  upon  her  cheeks  and  a  suf- 
fusion of  her  gray  eyes  which  showed  how  near 
the  subject  was  to  her  heart. 

Mark  looked  earnestly  at  her. 

"  You  are  sure  you  would  like  it  ?" 

"  Quite  sure." 

"  A  child  of  that  age  would  make  you  a 
good  deal  of  trouble  and  anxiety.  Are  the 
children  healthy?" 


32  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

"So  Anne  says — no,  I  do  not  think  she 
said  any  thing  about  that,  directly.  She  said 
they  were  rosy  and  pretty." 

"Then  I  dare  say  they  are  healthy  as 
well." 

"And,  if  they  are  not,  they  have  so  much 
the  more  need  of  care,"  said  Veronica. 

"True,  little  wife;  but  it  is  your  health  I 
must  think  of." 

"  But  you  know  I  am  very  strong,  Mark. 
I  believe  I  have  gone  over  all  the  objections 
in  my  own  mind  a  dozen  times,"  continued 
Veronica.  "  I  am  so  afraid  of  being  misled 
by  my  inclinations." 

"Well,  what  are  the  objections?"  asked 
Mark.  "  Let  us  have  them  in  detail." 

"First,  there  is  the  expense." 

"  That  need  be  no  great  matter  for  some 
years  to  come,"  said  Mark;  "and  meantime  we 
are  growing  more  and  more  able  to  meet  it. 
I  do  not  suppose  we  shall  have  any  thing  to 
leave  her ;  but  we  must  give  her  a  thoroughly 
good  education,  and  thus  enable  her  to  main- 
tain herself  if  it  should  become  necessary. 
Well,  what  next?" 

"Then,  there  is  the  responsibility,  Mark." 

"True;  and  that  is,  no  doubt,  very  great. 


A   HASTY   PROMISE.  oo 

But  it  would  be  no  more  for  this  little  one 
than  for  a  child  of  our  own ;  and  if  we  find  it 
too  much  for  our  strength,  we  must  cast  our 
burden  upon  Him  who  has  promised  to  help 
the  heavy-laden.  We  must  remember,  Vero- 
nica, that  we  cannot  make  the  child,  and  we 
are  not  expected  to  do  so.  All  we  have  in 
our  power  is  to  act  according  to  our  best  light, 
both  for  its  bodily  and  spiritual  welfare,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  God." 

"Then,  you  know,  Mark,  if  we  take  the 
child,  we  must  keep  it  always,  however  it 
turns  out.  It  may  be  sickly,  or  ill-disposed, 
crooked  in  mind  or  body;  and  yet,  having  once 
adopted  it,  we  cannot  cast  it  off." 

"  Of  that  we  must  take  our  chance  with  any 
child,  as  much  with  our  own  as  with  a 
stranger's.  But  we  will  pray  upon  it  and 
sleep  upon  it,  my  dear,  and  then  decide ; 
though,  honestly,  I  believe  we  have  in  our  own 
minds  decided  already." 

Veronica  smiled.     She  thought  so  too. 

"It  will  make  the  house  very  lively  again," 
continued  Mark,  in  a  musing  tone.  "  I  fear 
you  have  found  it  desolate  enough  for  the  Last 
few  months,  Veronica,  with  only  me  for  coin- 
puny." 
c 


34  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

"Arc  you  not  better  to  me  than  ten  sons?" 
said  Veronica.  Her  husband  looked  at  her 
with  something  shining  very  brightly  in  his 
blue  eyes;  but  he  did  not  make  her  any  an- 
swer in  words. 


THE    BABIES.  35 


CHAPTER  II.  ( 

THE    BABIES. 

ERONICA  rose  early  the  next 
morning,  and  before  her  husband 
made  his  appearance  she  had 
dusted  the  sitting-room,  arranged 
Mark's  desk  and  books,  which  were 
apt  to  fall  into  dire  confusion,  and 
held  a  consultation  with  Becky  upon 
various  household  matters.  Becky  was 
a  strong-armed,  somewhat  hard-featured  wo- 
man, who  might  have  been  of  any  age  from 
thirty  to  fifty.  She  had  been  taken  from  the 
poor-house  as  a  "  bound-girl"  by  Mark  Cam- 
pion's mother,  and  had  remained  in  the  family 
many  years.  When  Mrs.  Campion  gave  up 
housekeeping  on  Mark's  marriage,  Becky  came 
to  live  with  Veronica,  and  had  stayed  with 
her  ever  since,  the  only  servant  through  some 
years  of  hard  toil  and  trial.  She  was  an  ex- 
cellent cook  and  laundress,  perfectly  faithful, 


36  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

active,  trustworthy,  and,  in  spite  of  a  somewhat 
crabbed  manner,  singularly  even-tempered. 
When  Mrs.  John  Campion  married,  she  was 
anxious  to  secure  Becky's  services;  and,  not 
having  been  brought  up  with  any  strict  ideas 
of  her  duty  towards  her  neighbour,  she  ottered 
Becky  nearly  double  wages  and  a  great  increase 
of  dignity  if  she  would  accept  the  post  of 
housekeeper.  Becky,  however,  treated  with 
the  utmost  scorn  the  notion  that  she  should 
"better  herself"  in  any  such  way. 

"  Live  with  Anne  Holley,  indeed,"  she  said 
to  Mrs.  Campion.  "I'd  as  soon  live  with  a 
whole  nest  of  squirrels  !  Keep  house,  indeed  ! 
It  would  be  a  large  house  that  would  keep  her 
and  me  at  the  same  time.  If  Mr.  John  is 
going  to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  Ja'ii't." 

"You  should  not  speak  so  of  my  son's  wife, 
llebecca,"  said  Mrs.  Campion.  "Mr.  John  has 
a  right  to  please  himself." 

"And  I've  got  a  right  to  please  myself," 
returned  Becky;  and  there  the  matter  ended. 

Anne  Campion  was  not  possessed  of  much 
delicacy,  and  she  was  firmly  persuaded  in  her 
own  mind  of  her  infinite  superiority  to  Vero- 
nica, especially  in  all  matters  of  housekeeping. 
Veronica,  she  argued,  was  a  literary  woman: 


THE    BABIES.  37 

literary  women  never  made  good  housekeepers : 
ergo,  Veronica  was  not  a  good  housekeeper. 
Consequently,  she  had  not  the  slightest  hesita- 
tion in  advising,  criticizing,  and  even  reproving 
her  elder  sister-in-law.  Her  comments  always 
roused  Becky's  ire  to  the  utmost,  and  she 
never  failed  to  express  her  opinions  on  such 
occasions;  and  there  was  a  sort  of  guerilla 
warfare  kept  up  between  them,  which  was 
sometimes  amusing  and  sometimes  rather  an- 
noying. It  was  enough  that  any  project  origin- 
ated with  Mrs.  John  to  set  Becky  against  it; 
and  Veronica  saw  that  this  circumstance  might 
be  a  difficulty  in  the  way  of  Becky's  taking 
kindly  to  the  baby.  She  therefore,  in  un- 
folding her  plan,  wisely  kept  Mrs.  John  in  the 
background.  Becky  loved  children  dearly, 
and  she  had  mourned  deeply  for  the  two  little 
ones  who  had  been  removed.  She  approved 
of  the  plan  at  once,  and  cheerfully  promised 
to  take  her  share  of  the  trouble  entailed  by 
tiie  new  baby. 

"  It  will  seem  very  nice  to  have  a  little  one 
about  the  house  once  more/'  said  she.  "And 
who  is  to  take  the  other, — poor  little  dear?" 

"  Mrs.  John  means  to  take  the  other  her- 
self/' replied  Veronica. 


38  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Mrs.  John!"  exclaimed  Becky,  in  a  tone 
which  spoke  volumes. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Veronica.  "  It  was  she  who 
proposed  the  plan  in  the  first  place.  She  found 
poor  Mrs.  Brush  at  the  hospital,  and  came  im- 
mediately to  tell  me." 

"Oh,  it  is  all  right,  I  dare  say,"  said  Becky, 
beginning  to  chop  energetically.  "Only  I 
pity  the  poor  child:  that's  all." 

"  Becky,  you  are  prejudiced  against  Mrs. 
John,"  said  Veronica,  gravely.  "  Nothing  that 
she  could  do  would  be  right  in  your  eyes.  I 
do  not  think  you  ought  to  allow  yourself  to 
be  governed  by  such  feelings." 

"She  is  so  aggravating,"  said  Becky, — "al- 
ways interfering,  and  directing  folks  old  enough 
to  be  her  mother.  When  I  was  young,  folks 
were  taught  not  to  reprove  their  elders.  And, 
after  all,"  she  continued,  "there  does  not  seem 
to  be  much  comfort  in  bringing  up  other  folks' 
children.  Look  at  poor  old  Miss  Brown.  No- 
body could  do  more  for  an  own  child  than  she 
did  for  Martha  James.  She  denied  herself 
decent  clothes  and  food  that  the  child  might 
have  all  she  wanted, — might  go  to  a  good 
school,  and  dress  like  other  girls.  She  worked 
for  her  night  and  day,  and  indulged  her  in 


THE    BABIES.  39 

every  thing ;  and  see  what  has  come  of  it. 
Some  people  say  that  adopted  children  always 
turn  out  badly." 

"I  do  not  think  spoiled  children  arc  apt  to 
be  grateful  to  those  who  spoil  them,  under  any 
circumstances,"  said  Veronica,  suppressing  a 
smile  at  the  sudden  change  which  had  come 
over  Becky's  sentiments  at  the  mention  of  Mrs. 
John.  "I  think  Miss  Brown  made  a  great 
mistake  in  putting  all  her  property  into  the 
hands  of  Martha  and  her  husband,  thus  ren- 
dering herself  dependent  upon  them." 

"  That  doesn't  excuse  them  for  treating  her 
so,"  said  Becky,  shortly.  "  It  only  makes 
them  worse." 

"Nothing can  excuse  such  conduct  as  theirs," 
said  Veronica.  "But,  Becky,  I  can  think  of 
another  instance  where  a  poor  child  was  taken 
into  a  family,  in  which  she  remained  more  than 
thirty  years,  repaying  ten  times  over,  by  her 
faithful  friendship  and  her  unwearied  services, 
all  that  had  been  done  for  her." 

"  Do  you  mean  me  ?"  asked  Becky.  "  Bless 
you,  my  dear,  I  haven't  done  any  thing, — only 
earned  my  wages.  I  do  think  I  have  done 
that." 

"  You  have  done  a   great  deal   more  than 


40  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

that,  Becky.  No  mere  servant  could  have 
helped  me  through  my  seasons  of  severe  trial 
as  you  did.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  could  never 
have  lived  through  Anne's  last  sickness  without 
you." 

"  Now,  don't,  Mrs.  Mark,"  said  Becky  j  "  as 
if  I  wouldn't  have  laid  down  my  life  for  either 
of  them  sweet  lambs  any  minute,  to  say  nothing 
of  you  and  Mr.  Mark.  Besides,  didn't  you 
nurse  me  with  my  broken  leg  as  though  I  had 
been  your  own  sister,  scrimping  yourselves 
every  way  to  buy  nice  things  for  me,  and  keep 
a  fire  for  me  in  the  best  room  in  the  house? 
To  be  sure,  Mrs.  John  came  and  sat  up  with 
me  too,"  said  Becky,  relenting  a  little,  "and 
took  real  good  care  of  me :  only  she  was  sure 
to  wake  me  up  every  time  I  dropped  asleep, 
and  kept  up  such  a  creaking  and  rustling  and 
rattling  that  she  nearly  drove  me  cra/y.  But 
then  she  meant  well, — poor  thing!  and  if  folks 
haven't  got  sense  they  haven't,  and  that  is  all 
about  it.  The  apostle  tells  some  people  that 
they  suffered  fools  gladly,  seeing  they  them- 
selves were  wise;  but  I  do  think  it  takes  a 
sight  of  wisdom  to  suffer  some  folks.  And  so 
•she  is  going  to  take  a  child  to  bring  up?  Well, 
well !" 


THE   BABIES.  41 

"  I  do  not  know  what  would  become  of  the 
other  baby  if  she  did  not  take  it,"  said  Vero- 
nica. "I  could  hardly  undertake  two;  and 
there  are  no  family  friends.  I  think  she  will 
be  very  kind.  My  only  fear  is  lest  she  should 
be  too  kind." 

"  That's  the  way  it  will  end,  I  expect/'  said 
Becky.  "  She  will  spoil  the  child  till  there  is 
no  living  with  it,  and  then  turn  it  over  to 
you.  However,  I  won't  borrow  trouble  about 
that.  I  wonder  if  the  little  dears  have  got 
any  clothes?" 

"  I  dare  say  they  are  not  very  well  provided 
with  them.  The  mother  has  been  very  poor 
ever  since  they  were  born ;  and,  besides,  coming 
as  they  do  from  New  Orleans,  they  will  not 
be  likely  to  have  any  thing  warm  enough  for 
this  climate.  I  shall  find  out  all  about  that 
to-day." 

"  There  are  those  clothes  of  Anne's,"  said 
Becky,  with  some  hesitation.  "If  you  thought 
of  using  them,  I  might  get  them  out  and  look 
them  over." 

"  I  do  not  feel  as  though  I  could  use  those 
things,  Becky.  It  may  be  weak  in  me,  but  I 
don't  think  I  could  bear  to  see  another  chrld 
weariny;  those  frocks." 


42  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  as  much  right  to  have 
feelings  as  other  folks/'  said  Becky. 

"But  there  is  that  pretty  blue  merino  Mrs. 
Campion  gave  me/'  continued  Veronica.  "  If 
you  have  time  to-day,  I  should  like  to  have 
you  rip  it  and  press  it  out.  I  think  I  can 
make  a  couple  of  pretty  frocks  and  a  nice  little 
cloak  from  the  skirt." 

"Of  course  I  -shall  have  time,"  replied 
Becky.  "  I  haven't  any  thing  to  do,  after  I 
have  washed  my  dishes  and  baked  my  pies  and 
swept  and  dusted  the  parlour.  And  I  guess, 
too,  I  had  better  set  up  some  little  woollen 
stockings.  My  knitting  is  all  done,  and  Mr. 
Mark  doesn't  want  any  more  socks  just 
now." 

"  Very  well :  you  \vi\\  find  some  nice  red 
and  white  yarn  in  the  bottom  of  my  basket." 

"  I  calculate  to  buy  the  yarn  myself,"  said 
Becky,  shortly.  "  If  I  choose  to  spend  some 
of  my  own  money  on  the  child,  I  don't  see 
why  you  need  object,  Mr*.  Mark." 

"  Certainly  not,  Becky :  please  yourself,"  re- 
plied Veronica,  smiling,  and  perceiving  that 
the  baby's  place  was  already  secured  in  Becky's 
heart.  "  But  now  we  will  have  prayers.  I 
hear  Mr.  Mark  in  the  dining-room." 


THE   BABIES.  43 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day,  Vero- 
nica ?"  asked  Mark  at  the  breakfast- table. 

"  I  am  going  up  to  the  hospital,  to  see  poor 
Daisy  and  settle  with  the  Sisters  about  letting 
her  have  a  private  room.  I  do  not  like  to 
think  of  her  being  in  the  common  ward,  with 
all  sorts  of  people.  Anne  has  agreed  to  bear 
half  the  expense;  for  "of  course  it  will  cost 
something." 

"As  she  did  of  Julia  Green's  rent,  eh  ?" 

"  Now,  Mark,  you  need  not  bring  that  up. 
You  know  John  paid  Anne's  share  long  ago. 
But  this  will  be  no  more  than  a  trifle  in  any 
case;  for  they  say  Daisy  can  only  live  a  few 
days  at  the  outside." 

"You  might  bring  her  home  with  you," 
said  Mark.  "  The  front  bedroom  is  warmed, 
at  any  rate;  and  Becky  would  enjoy  having 
her  to  nurse." 

"  I  do  not  suppose  she  can  be  moved  so  far. 
But  are  you  sure  you  would  be  willing  to  take 
such  a  burden,  Mark  ?" 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  it  is  no  more  than  I 
should  like  to  have  some  good  Christian  to 
do  for  you  under  like  circumstances,"  replied 
Mark.  "But  act  according  to  your  own  judg- 
ment, my  dear.  You  are  sure  to  be  right." 


44  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

And  Mark  really  meant  what  he  said;  for,  a 
dreamy,  meditative  sort  of  man  himself,  he  had 
unbounded  faith  in  his  wife's  practical  wisdom, 

Veronica  soon  despatched  her  household 
affairs, — indeed,  Becky  left  her  very  little  to 
do  in  that  line, — and  then  proceeded  to  the 
hospital.  Anne  had  agreed  to  meet  her  at  half- 
past  ten ;  but,  when  she  arrived,  no  Anne  had 
made  her  appearance.  Veronica  was  not  sorry. 
She  wanted  an  opportunity  for  some  private 
conversation  with  the  hospital  authorities  and 
with  Daisy  herself.  Daisy  had  had  a  restless 
night,  and  was  somewhat  weaker  in  conse- 
quence, the  Sister  said,  but  still  she  was  com- 
fortable, and  it  would  do  her  no  harm  to  talk 
a  little,  if  she  were  not  excited. 

"Your  friend  means  kindly,"  said  she,  "but 
she  should  learn  to  control  herself  if  she 
means  to  visit  sick  people.  Tears  of  sympathy 
are  all  very  well  in  books,  my  dear;  but  it  will 
never  do  to  bestow  them  too  freely  upon  people 
who  are  subject  to  coughing-fits." 

"  Was  she  able  to  see  Dr.  Courtland  ?"  asked 
Veronica. 

"Yes;  and  she  seemed  to  enjoy  his  visit. 
She  behaves  wonderfully  well — poor  child! — 
all  things  considered." 


THE   BABIES.  45 

Veronica  mentioned  Mark's  wish  that  Daisy 
should  be  removed  to  their  own  house;  but 
the  Sister  shook  her  head  decidedly. 

"  It  will  never  do.  She  would  most  likely 
die  on  the  road.  I  am  not  sure  it  would 
answer  even  to  remove  her  from  one  room  to 
another." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Veronica. 
"  I  hoped  we  might  at  least  secure  a  private 
room  for  her." 

The  Sister  considered.  "It  will  be  a  risk," 
she  repeated.  "  Still,  if  the  room  were  all 

ready  and  well  warmed  beforehand Well, 

my  dear,  go  in  and  see  your  friend,  and  I  will 
talk  to  the  doctor  about  the  matter.  If  he 
consents,  I  will  have  the  room  all  prepared  be- 
fore \ve  say  any  thing  to  her  about  it.  Then 
we  can  have  her  carried  down  at  once,  and  she 
will  have  no  time  to  get  flurried." 

"How  much  there  is  in  knowing  how!" 
thought  Veronica,  as  she  followed  the  Sister 
up  the  stairs  and  through  the  long,  clean ly- 
scTiibbed  passage.  "  Not  one  person  in  ten 
would  ever  have  thought  of  that." 

She  found  poor  Daisy  half  sitting  up,  sup- 
ported in  her  little  bed  by  piles  of  pillows,  at 
one  end  of  the  large  ward,  in  which  there  were 


46  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

only  two  or  three  other  patients.  Her  skin 
was  white  as  paper,  though  she  had  a  round, 
red  spot  upon  one  cheek,  and  her  large  hazel 
eyes  looked  unnaturally  clear  and  bright.  The 
two  babies  were  sitting  on  a  coverlet  placed 
upon  the  floor, — one  peacefully  sucking  its 
thumb,  the  other  playing  with  an  extempore 
doll.  They  were  very  pretty  children,  not  in 
the  least  alike, — one  being  dark  with  black 
eyes,  and  the  other  inheriting  her  poor  mother's 
chestnut  hair  and  transparent  complexion. 

Daisy  recognized  her  friend  directly,  and 
held  out  her  hand  to  her  with  a  sweet  smile. 
Veronica  found  it  hard  to  follow  the  Sister's 
direction  and  preserve  her  calmness  as  she 
looked  at  her  old  school-mate. 

"You  are  not  in  the  least  changed,  Vero- 
nica/' said  she,  regarding  her  fondly,  after  she 
was  seated  by  the  bedside.  "  I  should  have 
known  you  anywhere.  You  can  hardly  say 
as  much  for  me,  I  suppose?" 

"Your  hair  is  gray,  and  that  makes  a  dif- 
ference," replied  Veronica,  "and  your  expres- 
sion is  a  good  deal  changed,  but  still  your 
smile  is  the  same.  You  were  a  giddy  little 
thing  when  I  knew  you,  Daisy.  Do  you  re- 
member how  I  used  to  shut  you  into  your 


THE    BABIES.  47 

room  before  I  rang  the  study-bell,  that  I 
might  not  have  to  mark  you  for  being  out  of 
place  ?" 

"  I  remember  how  you  used  to  help  me  Avith 
my  lesson?  when  no  one  else  had  the  patience," 
replied  Daisy;  "only  you  would  make  me  find 
the  words  and  do  the  sums  myself,  and  pin 
me  down  till  I  accomplished  my  task,  in- 
stead of  doing  every  thing  for  me.  You 
were  always  one  of  the  grave,  practical  pupils, 
Veronica." 

"I  was  made  so  by  circumstances,"  replied 
Veronica.  "  My  cares  came  eai'ly  upon  me. 
I  was  five  years  older  than  you,  too;  and  that 
makes  all  the  difference  at  our  ages." 

"And  I  am  young  still : — I  am  only  twenty- 
five,"  said  Daisy,  sighing.  "  Yet  it  seems  as 
if  I  had  had  a  long  life  already.  If  it  were 
not  for  my  poor  babies,  I  should  not  desire  to 
live  any  longer.  But  it  seems  hard  to  go  and 
leave  them  to  strangers  !" 

"You  must  not  think  you  arc  leaving  them 
to  strangers,  my  child,"  observed  the  Sister, 
overhearing  the  remark.  "  In  any  event,  you 
leave  them  to  God ;  and  surely  He  is  no 
stranger." 

"It  was   partly  about   ill"  children    that    I 


48  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

came  to  see  you,"  said  Veronica,  when  they 
were  left  to  themselves.  "You  know  I  have 
no  little  ones  left  of  my  own,  and  Mark  and 
I  both  thought  we  should  like  to  take  one  of 
the  babies  and  bring  it  up  as  our  child.  We 
are  not  rich,  and  probably  never  shall  be; 
but  we  have  a  comfortable  home,  and  are  able 
to  give  the  little  one  a,  good  education,  which, 
after  all,  is  the  best  inheritance  in  this  country. 
We  will  bring  it  up,  as  far  as  we  are  able, 
in  the  fear  of  God  and  the  knowledge  of  His 
word.  I  cannot  say  more ;  but  that  much 
I  may  safely  promise,  both  for  Mark  and 
myself." 

Daisy  drew  a  long  breath,  and  leaned  back 
on  her  pillows  with  a  look  of  intense  relief. 

"  I  am  deeply  thankful,  Veronica.  I  do 
trust  you  entirely.  Anne  said  you  would  take 
the  child  ;  but  I  did  not  know.  I  did  not  dare 
to  build  upon  it.  I  remembered  Anne's  old 
headlong  way  of  making  promises,  and  I  could 
see  that  she  was  not  much  changed.  The  Sisters 
would  have  taken  Rosy  into  their  asylum. 
They  have  been  very  good  to  me,  and  I  hope 
I  am  grateful ;  but  I  did  not  like  to  think  of 
my  Rosy  growing  up  a  Roman  Catholic.  You 
know,  after  all,  if  we  think  we  are  right  we 


THE    BABIES.  49 

must  think  they  are  wrong,"  said  Daisy,  ap- 
peal ingly. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Veronica.  "We  may 
reverence  and  love  what  is  good  and  praise- 
worthy in  people  ;  but  that  does  not  make  it 
necessary  for  us  to  adopt  their  errors.  If  an 
Arab  should  succour  me  with  water  in  the  de- 
sert, I  should  be  deeply  grateful  to  him ;  but  I 
should  not  feel  that  I  was  obliged  to  believe 
in  Mohammed  on  that  account.  Which  of  the 
children  is  Rosy?" 

"  The  fair  one.  The  other  is  Kitty, — named 
for  Mr.  Brush's  mother  and  sister." 

"  And  you  would  prefer  to  have  me  take 
Rosy?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  think  so.  You  see,  Veronica, 
she  is  like  me,  and  I  am  afraid  she  inherits 
my  own  and  my  mother's  constitution;  and 
you  are  used  to  nursing.  Besides,  I  know 
Anne  likes  Kitty  best.  She  thinks  the  child 
is  like  her  family." 

"Say  no  more,  my  dear  Daisy:  I  will  gladly 
take  Rosy.  Indeed,  I  think  Mark  would 
prefer  her,  if  he  allowed  himself  to  have  any 
choice.  He  has  an  artist's  admiration  for 
chestnut  hair." 

"I  am  very  thankful,"  said   Daisy,  with  a 


50  THE   TWIN   EOSES. 

smile  which  was  radiant  with  peace  and  satis- 
faction. "My  precious  babies  will  have  good 
homes  and  kind  friends  when  I  am  gone. 
God  has  been  very  good  to  me.  I  am  sure 
He  will  take  care  of  them."  She  lay  with 
closed  eyes  and  clasped  hands  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then,  suddenly  rousing  herself,  she 
spoke  with  energy  : — 

"Veronica,  promise  me  one  thing.  Promise 
me,  sacredly,  that,  whatever  happens,  my 
daughters  shall  never  be  turned  over  to  Adela 
Brush.  Send  them  to  the  asylum,  bind  them 
out  to  service  in  honest  families, — any  thing 
that  is  decent ;  but  never,  never  put  them 
into  the  power  of  that  woman  !  Promise  me, 
Veronica." 

"  I  promise  you  that,  so  far  as  it  is  in  my 
power  to  prevent  it,  she  shall  never  have 
any  thing  to  do  with  them,"  said  Veronica. 
"  Don't  excite  yourself,  Daisy.  But,  my  dear 
child,"  she  added,  with  some  hesitation,  "what- 
ever Adda  has  done,  you  must  try  to  forgive 
her  from  your  heart." 

"  I  have  tried,  and  I  hope  I  have  done  so," 
said  Daisy.  "But  you  don't  know  what  I 
have  suffered.  I  never  would  have  believed 
that  any  one  could  treat  a  sick  person  as  she 


THE    BABIES.  51 

treated  me.  Such  cold,  deliberate,  constant 
un kindness,  shown  in  such  mean  little  ways! 
For  one  instance:  a  lady  gave  me  one  of  those 
books  of  texts,  to  hang  upon  the  wall,  you 
know: — I  forget  the  name." 

"  The  Silent  Comforter,"  said  Veronica. 

"  Yes.  Well,  I  hung  it  at  the  foot  of  my 
bed,  and  turned  over  the  leaves,  or  got  one  of 
the  servants  to  turn  over  the  leaves,  every 
day;  and  it  was  a  comforter, — about  the  only 
one  I  had  in  that  house,  except  the  poor 
coloured  woman  who  waited  on  me.  Well, 
one  day  Adela  wanted  a  bit  of  paper  to  light 
the  gas,  and  she  deliberately  tore  one  of  the 
leaves  out  and  used  it,  and  then  threw  it  into 
the  fire.  That  is  a  specimen  of  her  daily  con- 
duct. Then,  if  I  complained  of  any  thing,  she 
taunted  me  with  my  ingratitude  and  depend- 
ence, and  told  me  I  had  better  go  to  the  hos- 
pital. T  am  sure  I  would  have  gone  in  a 
minute,  if  I  could.  She  used  to  tell  me,  over 
and  over,  that  my  husband's  death  was  all 
owing  to  me, — 'that  it  was  caused  by  my  light 
conduct  with  gentlemen,  and  that  my  extrava- 
gance ruined  him, — when  we  had  not  a  cent 
which  was  not  mine.  Mr.  Brush  was  not 
what  he  should  have  been,  but  he  was  kind  to 


52  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

me,  and  I  loved  him  dearly.  He  was  sensible 
in  his  last  hours,  and  prayed  earnestly  for  for- 
giveness. That  is  my  great  comfort  in  think- 
ing about  him." 

"  It  is  the  greatest  comfort/'  said  Veronica. 
"'The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from  all 
sin;'  and,  'To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
paradise/  was  spoken  to  one  who  repented  at 
the  eleventh  hour.  Yet  those  run  a  fearful 
risk  who  put  off  repentance  and  prayer  to  a 
death-bed." 

"  It  was  Adela  who  made  the  match,"  con- 
tinued Daisy.  "The  affair  began  in  school. 
He  used  to  send  me  letters  and  presents  by 
Adela,  and  I  thought  it  a  fine  thing  to  have  a 
secret  and  a  lover, — though  I  did  not  care  a 
pin  for  him  at  that  time.  Then,  before  I  knew 
it,  I  was  entangled  in  an  engagement,  and 
Adela  threatened  all  sorts  of  things  if  I  broke 
it  off.  She  said  I  was  entirely  in  her  power; 
and  I  believed  her.  But  I  loved  Mr.  Brush 
afterwards.  He  was  wild,  and  had  no  princi- 
ple,— they  were  never  brought  up  to  have  any, 
— but  he  was  very  kind  to  me,  whatever  he 
might  have  been  out  of  my  sight.  I  remem- 
ber well  that  last  morning.  He  went  out  before 
I  was  up,  and  he  came  back  and  kissed  me 


THE    BABIES.  53 

twice.  I  wondered  what  was  the  matter;  but 
I  never  guessed, — never  thought  of  any  harm, 
till  they  brought  him  in  wounded." 

"  You  are  tiring  yourself,  Daisy,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  Do  not  talk  any  more  now." 

"  It  does  me  good,"  said  Daisy.  "  It  is 
such  a  long,  long  time  since  I  have  had  a 
friend  to  talk  to  !" 

"  What  was  the  cause  of  the  duel  ?"  Vero- 
nica ventured  to  ask. 

"  Some  gambling  business.  They  quarrelled 
over  cards,  and  struck  one  another,  and  after 
that  there  was  nothing  for  it,  according  to  their 
notions,  but  to  fight.  It  was  not  what  Adela 
said :  I  was  foolish  enough  in  many  ways, 
but  not  in  that.  They  don't  think  so  much 
of  human  life  there  as  we  do  here;  but  the 
affair  made  a  great  noise,  and  Mr.  Brush  was 
much  blamed.  Whatever  his  faults  were,  he 
repented  seriously  and  sincerely,  if  ever  any 
man  did.  He  saw  at  that  time  how  he  had 
wasted  his  life  and  his  talents.  I  think  if  he 
had  lived  he  would  have  been  very  different ; 
but  it  was  not  to  be.  He  lingered  some  days, 
in  great  suffering  both  of  body  and  mind ;  but 
he  had  peace  at  the  last,  and  died  with  a  prayer 
on  his  lips.  After  all,  Veronica,  it  was  drink- 


54  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

ing  that  did  the  mischief, — that,  and  the  com- 
pany to  which  it  led.  Oh,  how  many  young 
men  I  saw  go  to  utter  destruction  in  the  few 
years  I  lived  in  New  Orleans! 

"  Mr.  Brush  knew  his  own  danger,  and  often 
declared  that  he  would  never  touch  another 
drop;  but  he  was  always  led  away.  If  there 
were  no  one  else  to  do  it,  Adela  herself  would 
lend  a  hand  to  the  work,  and  laugh  and  sneer 
at  him  till  he  would  take  a  glass  just  to  get 
rid  of  her;  and  then,  of  course,  all  was  over." 

"  I  should  think  it  incredible  that  a  woman 
could  act  such  a  part,  if  I  had  not  myself 
known  such  an  instance,"  observed  Veronica. 
"  In  this  case  it  was  a  wrife  who  led  away  her 
husband." 

"  It  was  more  to  torment  me  than  any  thing 
else,  I  do  believe,"  continued  Daisy.  "  She 
seemed  to  conceive  an  utter  hatred  to  me  as 
soon  as  I  was  married.  But  that  is  her  nature. 
She  can  no  more  help  it,  apparently,  than  a 
kitten  can  help  teasing  a  mouse.  She  drives 
her  servants  almost  mad;  and  I  should  not 
wonder  if  there  were  a  fearful  tragedy  acted  in 
the  house  some  day.  I  am  deeply  thankful 
that  my  children  are  not  left  in  her  power." 

"  I  would   not  think   of  her  more  than  I 


TIIK    BABIES.  05 

could  help,  Daisy,"  said  Veronica.  "The  more 
one  dwells  on  such  things,  especially  when  one 
is  weak,  the  worse" they  appear;  one  is  tempted 
to  act  all  the  scenes  over  again,  with  variations 
and  additions,  till  they  are  worse  in  the  imagi- 
nation than  they  were  in  the  reality." 

"  They  could  not  well  be  much  worse,"  re- 
plied Daisy,  shaking  her  head.  "But  you  are 
right,  Veronica.  It  is  not  good  to  dwell  on 
them.  I  would  rather  think  of  the  kindness  I 
have  received.  A  great  many  people  were  very 
good  to  me  after  I  left  Adela, — Mr.  Fowler 
especially.  He  was  the  clergyman  who  found 
me  a  place  to  sing  in  church.  Oh,  Veronica, 
what  a  comfort  it  was  to  me !  The  first  Sun- 
day or  two  I  did  not  enjoy  the  service  very 
much.  I  had  a  feeling  of  responsibility  and 
anxiety  lest  something  should  go  wrong  ;  but 
after  that  I  used  to  look  forward  to  Sunday 
as  to  a  haven  of  rest.  I  could  always  forget 
my  troubles  when  I  was  singing.  My  heart 
used  to  go  up  with  the  music.  They  said  after- 
wards that  singing  was  bad  for  me;  but  I  know 
better.  It  kept  me  alive  for  a  long  time." 

The  attending  Sister  now  appeared,  to  say 
that  the  room  was  ready;  and  Daisy,  well 
wrapped  up,  was  carefully  lifted  from  the  bed 


56  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

to  an  arm-chair,  and  transported  thither  with 
very  little  trouble.  She  bore  the  exertion 
better  than  had  been  expected,  but  seemed  so 
tired  when  finally  settled  that  Veronica  thought 
it  best  to  leave  her.  Having  kissed  her  little 
nursling,  and  secured  one  of  her  frocks  for  a 
pattern,  she  went  down-stairs,  meeting  Anne 
in  the  hall. 

"Why,  Veronica!"  she  exclaimed.  "How 
long  have  you  been  here?" 

"Since  half-past  ten.  What  has  kept  you 
so  long  ?" 

"Long!  Why,  it  is  only  a  quarter  to  one. 
I  promised  to  be  here  at  half-past  twelve: 
didn't  I  ?" 

"Half-past  ten,  I  understood.  Don't  you 
remember  my  saying  that  I  should  have  to  get 
up  early  to  finish  my  work  for  Mrs.  Kirk- 
land?" 

"Did  you?  Are  you  sure?  I  thought  it 
was  half-past  twelve;  but  I  don't  imagine  it 
makes  much  difference.  I  suppose  I  can  go 
up  and  see  Daisy  directly?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  go  just  now,"  said 
Veronica,  detaining  her.  "  Daisy  has  been 
talking  a  great  deal,  for  her,  and  she  has  just 
been  moved  to  her  new  room.  The  nurse  has 


THE    BABIES.  57 

taken  the  babies  out,  and  Daisy  has  composed 
herself  to  sleep.  It  will  be  better  not  to  dis- 
turb her." 

Anne  looked  vexed  and  disappointed.  "  I 
don't  see  what  I  am  to  do,"  said  she.  "  I 
wanted  to  see  her  so  very  much.  I  thought  I 
might  take  the  child  home  to-day.  I  do  so 
long  to  have  her  all  to  myself." 

"  I  do  not  think  Daisy  would  be  willing," 
said  her  sister-in-law.  "She  seems  to  cling  to 
them  so  closely,  it  would  be  cruelty  to  take 
them  away  till  the  last  minute.  She  tells  me 
that  you  have  decided  to  take  Kitty." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  believe  so.  She  looks  more 
like  me.  All  our  family  have  black  hair.  I 
suppose  it  makes  very  little  difference  to 
you  ?" 

"  Very  little,"  said  Veronica,  smiling.  "  In- 
deed, I  think  I  should  have  chosen  Rosy  at 
any  rate." 

"  Should  you  ?"  asked  Anne.     "  Why?" 

"  Principally  because  Mark  prefers  light 
hair." 

"  To  be  sure,  chestnut  hair  is  more  un- 
common. I  don't  know  but  I  should  like  it 
better  myself,"  said  Anne,  considering.  "  But 
then  Kitty  has  such  rosy  cheeks,  and  she  looks 


58  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

stronger  than  her  sister.  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know  what  to  say." 

"  I  understood  you  had  decided  already," 
said  Veronica.  "But,  if  there  is  any  question 
about  the  matter,  Daisy's  wishes  ought  to  settle 
it;  and  she  seemed  particularly  desirous  that  I 
should  take  Rosy.  She  thinks  there  may  be 
danger  of  the  child  turning  out  delicate." 

"  Oh,  if  she  is  going  to  be  sickly,  I  am  sure 
I  do  not  want  her.  Only,  I  think  it  is  very 
ungrateful  in  Daisy  to  show  such  a  distrust  of 
rne,  when  I  was  the  first  to  propose  taking  the 
children  at  all.  It  does  not  look  very  well,  I 
must  say." 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  any  distrust  on  Daisy's 
part,  Anne.  It  was  only  that  she  knew  I  had 
had  more  experience  with  children  than  your- 
self." 

"  Oh,  well,  it  doesn't  matter.  It  is  the  way 
of  the  world,  anyhow.  But  what  have  you 
there?" 

"  One  of  Rosy's  frocks.  I  must  have  some 
warm  clothes  made  for  her.  I  am  sure  she  is 
not  warmly  enough  dressed  for  this  climate." 

"I  shall  keep  Kitty  in  white  till  she  is  three 
years  old,"  said  Anne,  with  decision.  "Every- 
body does  so." 


THE    BABIES.  59 

"  Everybody  must  have  more  time  for  sew- 
ing, washing,  and  ironing  than  we  have  at  our 
house,"  said  Veronica.  "^  child  of  that  age 
will  need  three  or  four  white  frocks  a  week  to 
keep  her  decent.  But  I  must  not  stay  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject  now.  What  did  John  say  to 
your  plan  ?" 

"Oh,  he  consented  easily  enough:  only  he 
said,  •  You  must  remember,  Anne,  it  won't  do 
to  get  tired  of  a  live  plaything  and  throw 
it  away  as  you  do  a  dead  one.'  I  don't  see 
why  he  should  say  so,  I'm  sure:  only  he  likes 
to  make  remarks  of  that  kind.  What  did 
Mark  say?" 

"He  was  very  much  pleased,  as  I  foresaw 
he  would  be.  He  wanted  to  bring  Daisy 
home  at  once  to  our  own  house;  but  the  Sister 
says  it  will  not  do  to  move  her." 

"  And  you  think  it  will  not  answer  for  me 
to  take  Kitty  home  to-day?  However,  per- 
haps it  is  just  as  well,  for  I  Avant  to  furnish  my 
nursery.  Well,  there  is  no  use  in  my  staying, 
if  I  cannot  see  Daisy.  Shall  I  take  you 
home?" 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  am  going  to  walk  part 
of  the  way,  and  make  a  call.  Good-by." 

On    their  way  out,    the   sisters-in-law  met 


60  THE   TWIN   EOSES. 

the  nurse,  with  the  two  babies  in  her  arras. 
It  chanced  that  Rosy  was  crying  and  had  a 
red  nose,  while  Kitty  was  laughing  merrily, 
— a  circumstance  which  quite  satisfied  Mrs. 
John  with  her  first  choice. 


THE    ROSE   TRANSPLANTED. 


61 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   ROSE   TRANSPLANTED. 


to  every  one's  ex- 
pectation, Daisy  lingered  on  for 
nearly  two  weeks  longer.  As  her 
strength  decayed,  she  suffered  less, 
and  had  many  days  of  comparative 
comfort.  Veronica  visited  her  fre- 
quently, spending  many  hours  by  her 
bedside,  sometimes  reading  to  her,  some- 
times sitting  silently  at  work,  or  playing  with 
the  babies.  Daisy  was  at  times  much  inclined 
to  talk  over  the  experiences  of  her  short  life; 
and  the  nurse  thought  .  it  would  do  no  harm 
to  indulge  her.  In  this  way  Veronica  learned 
more  of  her  friend's  real  character  than  she 
had  ever  known  while  they  were  at  school  to- 
gether. Daisy  was  fond  of  recurring  to  her 
school-days. 

"  What  nice  times  we  had  at  T  -  !"  said 
she,  one  day,  after  they  had  been  discussing  old 


62  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

times  in  this  way.  "I  never  saw  such  a  cheer- 
ful school  as  that  was.  So  much  pains  seemed 
to  be  taken  to  make  the  girls  happy." 

"Yes;  they  were  very  pleasant  days,"  re- 
plied Veronica.  "  Yet  a  great  many  girls 
used  to  complain  bitterly  of  the  fare  and  ac- 
commodations. Mrs.  J.  used  to  say  the  grum- 
blers were  generally  those  who  had  never  lived 
half  as  well  in  their  lives  before.  I  know  that 
was  true  in  some  cases, — those  of  Mary  Draw 
and  Julia  Millener,  for  instance.  I  knew  how 
they  lived  at  home;  and  their  complaints 
always  seemed  to  me  perfectly  ridiculous." 

"  The  worst  of  it  was,  not  having  a  room  to 
oneself,  but  being  obliged  to  take  just  such  a 
room-mate  as  happened  to  come  along,"  re- 
marked Daisy. 

"  That  could  hardly  be  helped,  I  suppose," 
said  Veronica;  "and,  after  all,  people  generally 
assorted  themselves  pretty  soon.  I  always 
wondered,  however,  that  you  kept  on  with 
your  room-mate  as  you  did.  I  always  thought 
her  the  most  disagreeable  girl  in  school." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  myself,"  replied 
Daisy  ;  "  only  she  made  me  afraid  of  her.  Sho 
found  out  wrong  things  that  I  did,  and  used  to 
threaten  to  betray  me.  She  led  me  into  scrapes 


THE    ROSE   TRANSPLANTED.  63 

and  made  me  do  what  was  wrong,  and  that 
gave  her  a  handle  over  me.  There  was  not  a 
girl  in  the  school  who  broke  more  rules,  and 
not  one  who  was  more  seldom  found  out,  than 
Adela.  Even  Miss  M.,  who  saw  through  most 
of  the  girls,  never  thoroughly  knew  Adela, 
though  I  know  she  used  to  suspect  her ;  but 
she  never  succeeded  in  catching  her.  But  I 
won't  talk  about  her.  I  should  like  to  see 
Mrs.  W.  and  Miss  M.,  and  all  of  them,  once 
more.  I  should  like  to  go  through  the  old 
halls,  and  into  the  rooms,  and  have  a  good 
scolding  from  Mammy  J.,  again.  I  dare  say 
she  would  say  that  all  my  ill  health  was  owing 
to  my  running  out  some  time  without  my  over- 
shoes." 

"  She  might  be  right,  too,"  observed  Vero- 
nica. "  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  seeds  of  ill 
health  are  often  sown  by  early  imprudence. 
Girls  are  so  apt  to  be  careless  when  they  are 
away  from  home.  We  were  well  looked  after, 
too,  at  Mrs.  W.'s;  but  it  would  take  a  dozen 
Mrs.  J.s  to  keep  within  bounds  such  a  house- 
ful of  girls  as  we  had  at  T ." 

"  I  was  careless,  I  know,"  said  Daisy.  "  I 
never  was  brought  up  to  have  any  care.  I 
never  did  any  thing  I  did  not  like,  at  home. 


64  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

No  duties  were  ever  exacted  of  me.  Mrs. 
Dale,  my  guardian's  wife,  used  to  say,  'Oh, 
well,  it  is  a  motherless  child, — poor  thing !' 
whenever  Mr.  Dale  found  fault,  as  he  some- 
times did,  with  my  idleness.  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know  how  I  ever  learned  to  read  and 
write;  for  no  one  made  me.  They  meant  to 
he  very  kind ;  but  I  have  sometimes  doubted 
whether  it  was  real  kindness,  after  all." 

"  I  very  much  doubt  it,"  said  Veronica. 
"  I  think  the  sooner  children  learn  that  they 
have  duties  to  perform,  the  better  for  them 
and  for  every  one  else." 

"  I  think  so  too.  It  comes  so  very  hard 
when  one  is  obliged  to  take  them  up;  and  they 
come  to  every  one  sooner  or  later,  and  in  some 
shape  or  other.  But  Mrs.  Dale  was  very  good 
to  me,  and  she  did  teach  me  some  things, 
Veronica,— things  which  I  never  quite  forgot, 
and  which  came  back  to  me  when  I  needed 
them  most.  I  remember  how  she  used  to  take 
me  on  her  lap,  the  last  thing  before  I  went  to 
bed,  and  sing  to  me  the  Cradle  Hymn.  The 
very  first  thing  I  noticed  after  my  babies  were 
born,  was  Chloe,  the  coloured  woman  who 
waited  on  me,  singing,  'Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still 
and  slumber,'  to  the  babies.  She  was  fright- 


THE    ROSE    TRANSPLANTED.  65 

ened  when  I  burst  out  crying.  I  believe  she 
thought  she  had  killed  me;  but  it  did  me 
all  the  good  in  the  world.  I  had  not  been 
able  to  shed  a  tear  since  my  husband  died, 
except  just  at  first,  and  my  head  burned  like 
fire,  while  my  heart  seemed  cold  and  dry  as 
dust." 

"  Could  not  you  pray,  Daisy  ?"  asked  Vero- 
nica, »oftly. 

"Not  for  a  long  time,"  said  Daisy,  shaking 
her  head.  "  You  see,  I  felt  that  I  had  been  so 
much  to  blame.  Not  for  my  husband's  death, 
but  for  other  things.  You  know  I  lost  my 
first  baby." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  ever  had  any  but 
these,"  said  Veronica. 

"Yes:  my  first  was  a  boy.  It  only  lived 
ten  days.  Oh,  how  I  did  grieve  for  it !  I  had 
been  pretty  quiet  for  a  good  while  before  it  was 
born,  not  through  any  good  will  of  mine,  but 
because  the  doctor  was  peremptory  and  I  had 
to  obey.  Then,  of  course,  I  was  obliged  to 
think  a  little ;  and  I  grew  more  serious.,  read 
my  Bible,  and  prayed, — and  would  have  gone  to 
church,  only  I  was  not  able.  There  was  an 
elderly  lady  in  the  house,  who  was  very  kind 
to  me.  She  was  very  religious,  and  I  learned 


66  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

a  great  deal  of  her.  When  my  baby  died,  I 
was  thoroughly  sobered,  and  I  made  a  great 
many  resolutions.  I  did  live  very  near  to 
God  for  a  long  time,  and  I  loved  Him,  Vero- 
nica,— I  know  I  did, — and  tried  to  please  Him. 
Adela  laughed  at  me  and  teased  me ;  but  Mr. 
Brush  always  took  my  part,  and  said  I  should 
do  as  I  pleased.  He  did  not  care  for  such 
things  himself,  but  I  think  he  liked  to  see 
women  religious." 

"  That  is  the  case  with  a  great  many  such 
men,"  said  Veronica.  "  But  go  on,  Daisy,  if 
you  are  not  tired.  How  did  it  all  end  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know  how  I  began  to  fall  away," 
continued  Daisy.  "  It  began  by  small  things 
at  first.  We  lived  with  a  wild,  reckless  set, — 
foreigners  and  Creoles, — who  cared  no  more 
for  Sunday  than  for  any  other  day.  They 
would  go  to  the  theatre  or  opera  as  soon  on 
Sunday  evening  as  any  other;  or,  if  they  did 
not,  they  would  play  cards  at  home.  I  was 
led  to  do  tilings  that  I  knew  to  be  wrong,  and 
the  old  feelings  and  temper  came  back  upon 
me.  I  used  to  resist  feebly;  but  the  resistance 
grew  less  and  less,  and  the  sins  more  and  more, 
till  I  left  off  prayer  almost  entirely.  My 
friend  Mrs.  Carter  went  away,  and  I  had  no 


THE    EOSE   TRANSPLANTED.  67 

one  to  turn  to  for  advice  or  help;  for  I  had 
not  become  acquainted  with  any  clergyman.  I 
was  not  happy  all  the  time;  but  I  was  very 
gay.  Once  in  a  while  I  would  make  up  my 
mind  to  do  better;  but  my  resolutions  were 
soon  overthrown,  and  at  last  I  left  off  trying, 
and  only  endeavoured  to  keep  myself  from 
thinking  all  that  I  could. 

"  I  was  waked  up  with  a  terrible  shock 
when  my  husband  died.  I  saw  all  my  sin 
and  misery  plainly  enough  then.  A  great 
gulf  seemed  to  open  at  my  feet,  from  which 
there  was  no  escape.  I  could  not  cry;  I  could 
not  pray;  I  could  not  repent.  My  poor  hus- 
band prayed,  and  I  tried  to  join  him;  but, 
Veronica,  I  could  not.  It  seemed  impossible 
— absolutely  physically  impossible — for  me  to 
utter  a  prayer." 

"You  are  exciting  yourself,  Daisy,"  said 
Veronica. 

"No:  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  now 
I  have  begun.  I  never  told  anybody  before. 
Well,  this  lasted  till  my  babies  were  a  week 
old ;  and  I  got  no  relief.  Every  thing  seemed 
so  hard  and  cold.  Sometimes  it  even  seemed 
to  me  that  it  was  all  a  mistake  together, — that 
there  was  no  God,  and  no  dear  Jesus,  after  all, 


68  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

— nothing  but  a  waste  and  confused  desolation. 
Oh,  it  was  dreadful !" 

"  I  should  think  so,  indeed,"  said  Vero- 
nica, shuddering.  "  How  did  you  ever  live 
through  it?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  I  suppose  God 
strengthened  me;  though  I  did  not  see  Him. 
At  last,  as  I  said,  I  heard  Chloe  singing  to  the 
baby,  and  that  set  me  to  crying.  The  tears 
were  a  great  relief,  physically.  Chloe  was 
frightened,  and  would  have  stopped  singing, 
but  I  begged  her  to  keep  on,  and  to  sing  some- 
thing else.  She  sang  '  Hock  of  Ages/  to  the 
same  tune  we  used  at  school,  and  then  a  hymn, 
beginning — 

'  Come,  humble  sinner.' 

"'  That's  the  place  to  come  to,  Mrs.  John,' 
said  she,  when  she  had  finished :  '  right  to  the 
foot  of  the  cross, — right  to  Jesus.' 

"'I  can't,  Chloe,'  said  I.  '  I  have  tried,  and 
I  cannot.  It  is  all  dark  to  me.  I  cannot  see 
his  face  anywhere.' 

" '  Then  come  in  the  dark,  my  lamb,'  said 
the  old  woman.  'Call,  and  He  will  hear 
you.' 

"  'I  cannot  call,'  I  replied.    '  I  cannot  pray.' 

"'Thou    wait,   without    praying.     Do    any 


THE    KOSE   THANSFLANTED.  69 

thing  but  give  up.  Oh,  honey,  Jesus  loves 
you!  He  loves  you  in  all  your  sin  and  sor- 
row. Don't  ever  doubt  that !  Just  see  what 
your  book  says.'  And  she  read  from  the  'Silent 
Comforter/  hanging  upon  the  wall,  slowly, 
and  spelling  the  words, — for  she  knew  very 
little,  poor  thing!— 'He  that  spared  not  His 
own  Son,  but  delivered  Him  up  for  ns  all, 
how  shall  He  not  with  Him  freely  give  us 
all  things?'  (Rom.  viii.  32.) 

"  She  was  called  away  then,  and  I  was  left 
alone.  I  lay  in  a  kind  of  dumb  despair,  un- 
able to  think,  even  to  feel  any  thing  but  that 
I  was  utterly  miserable  and  hopeless.  All  at 
once  something  seemed  to  say  to  me, 'How 
much  must  you  have  loved  any  one  before 
you  could  give  up  the  life  of  one  of  these 
babies  for  him!'  And  then  it  came  over  me, — 
all  the  love  of  God  for  me,  and  his  goodness  to 
me.  And  when  the  old  woman  came  back  I 
could  ask  her  to  pray  with  me,  and  join  in  the 
prayer  with  all  my  heart." 

"And  was  that  the  end  of  your  trouble?" 
asked  A^eronk-u. 

"Of  all  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Daisy.  "I 
used  to  have  dark  days,  and  I  gave  way  to 
temper  and  to  vain  repining*;  but  I  could 


70  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

always  come  back.  And  then  He  was  so  good 
to  me !  It  seemed,  if  I  may  say  so,  as  if  He 
were  glad  to  see  me." 

"You  may  say  so,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  There  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth." 

She  took  from  her  pocket  a  tiny  book,  and 
read, — 

"This  is  a  sovereign  friendship  of  our 
gracious  Lord,  that  He  keepeth  us  so  tenderly 
while  we  are  in  our  sin;  and,  furthermore,  that 
He  then  toucheth  us  and  showeth  us  our  sin 
by  the  sweet  light  of  mercy  and  grace.  Then 
we  are  stirred  of  the  Holy  Ghost  unto  praver 
and  desire  after  Him;  and  then  our  Lord 
showeth  Himself  to  the  soul  in  friendly  wel- 
coming, as  if  it  had  been  in  pain  and  prison, 
saying,  '  My  dear  son,  I  am  glad  thou  art 
come  to  me  in  all  thy  woe !  I  have  all  the 
time  been  with  thee,  and  now  thou  h'ndest  me 
still  loving  thee.'" 

"That  is  it  exactly,"  said  Daisy.  "He 
seemed  to  bring  me  near  Plim  so  gently.  I 
was  a  great  deal  better  off  after  I  left  Adela's 
house.  Mr.  Fowler  found  me  a  nice,  quiet 
boarding-place,  with  a  good  old  woman,  who 
was  kind  to  me  and  the  children.  I  had  some 


THE    KOSE   TRANSPLANTED.  71 

vexations  with  my  pupils,  to  be  sure,  and  some 
trouble  with  the  singers  in  the  choir;  but  I 
escaped  the  daily  and  hourly  annoyances  and 
the  constant  trials  of  temper  which  made  me 
so  unhappy  when  I  was  with  Adela.  I  cannot 
say  I  was  very  happy;  but  I  was  contented 
and  quiet.  Even  when  my  health  failed,  I 
could  not  be  miserable,  for  it  seemed  as  though 
Govl  would  take  care  of  me  and  my  children. 
And  so  He  has.  I  am  happy  now, — very 
happy." 

Daisy  continued  in  the  same  frame  as  long 
as  she  lived,  grateful  to  every  one  who  was 
kind  to  her,  patient  and  smiling  to  the  very 
last.  Anne  came  often  to  see  her,  but  never 
stayed  long.  She  had  no  control  over  her  feel- 
ings, and  her  tears  agitated  Daisy  and  brought; 
on  her  coughing-fits. 

Anne  had  quite  decided  that  she  liked  Kitty 
the  best.  She  had  already  provided  a  superb 
wardrobe  for  the  baby,  revelling  in  worked 
frocks  and  petticoats,  and  the  broadest  ribbon 
sashes  that  could  be  bought  for  money.  Her 
nursery  was  furnished  with  all  the  modern 
improvements,  and  was  proudly  displayed  to 
all  her  acquaintances,  many  of  whom  laughed 
behind  her  back  and  wondered  how  long  the 


72  THE   TWIN    HOSES. 

new  freak  would  last.  Meantime,  Veronica 
worked  at  her  cashmere  frocks  and  bird's-eye 
aprons,  while  Becky  cooked  nice  things  to 
tempt  Daisy's  appetite,  and  revived  her  know- 
ledge of  ornamental  stiches  till  she  made 
Rosy's  new  socks  into  wonders  of  art.  Mark 
was  very  busy,  but  he  contrived  to  steal  time 
from  his  numerous  avocations  to  see  Daisy  and 
the  baby,  and  to  carve  out  of  soft  pine  and 
cedar  some  wonderful  figures  of  cows  and 
sheep,  and  a  shepherd  and  shepherdess,  as  toys 
for  Rosy.  The  little  lady  took  to  him  at  once, 
and  won  his  whole  heart  from  the  iirst  time 
she  clawed  her  little  hands  into  his  beard;  and 
he  was  impatient  for  the  time  when  he  should 
have  her  at  home. 

The  time  came  very  soon.  Daisy  sunk  away 
at  the  close  of  a  sunny  winter's  day, — passing 
away  as  quietly  as  the  sunset-clouds  whose 
pink  reflection  shone  on  her  pale  face. 

"It  is  all  over!"  said  Mark,  brushing  the 
tears  from  his  eyes.  "  Her  God,  in  whom  she 
trusted,  has  delivered  her  from  this  present 
evil  world.  May  lie  give  ns  grace  to  guide 
this  child  to  her  mother's  arms!  I  suppose  it 
will  be  best  to  take  the  children  away  pretty 
soon  ?" 


THE    KOSE   TKANSl'LAA'TED.  73 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well,"  replied  the 
Sister  who  had  charge  of  the  twins.  "  The 
longer  I  keep  them,  the  harder  it  will  be  to 
part  with  them." 

Mr.  John  Campion  provided  for  the  ex- 
penses of  the  simple  funeral,  and  Daisy  was 
laid  to  rest  by  the  side  of  Veronica's  own 
babies,  under  the  forest-trees  of  Mount  Faith, 
then1  to  await  her  joyous  resurrection;  and  the 
same  day  the  children  were  removed  to  their 
new  homes. 

Becky  was  at  the  door,  eaajerlv  watching  for 

w  t  O  •/  fj 

the  carriage,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  for 
the  baby. 

"  Fast  -asleep,"  said  Veronica,  as  Mark 
handed  her  out.  "  Carry  her  in,  Becky,  and 
lay  her  on  the  bed.  I  dare  say  she  will  be 
lonely  just  at  first;  but  she  will  soon  be  re- 
conciled to  the  change.  Children  at  that  age 
have  short  memories." 

"Dear  lamb!"  said  Becky,  carefully  laying 
down  her  precious  charge.  "  How  nice  it 
seems  to  have  a  baby  in  my  arms  once  more! 
I  wish  we  could  have  had  them  both." 

"That  was  quite  out  of  the  question,"  re- 
plied Veronitsi.  "  To  s.iy  noiiiing  of  any  other 
consideration,  it  would  nut  have  been  fair  to 


74  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Mrs.  John  to  deprive  her  of  the  child  after 
she  had  set  her  heart  upon  it." 

"  Xo,"  said  Becky,  reflectively :  "  I  suppose 
not.  She  has  provided  beautiful  clothes  for 
the  child,  I  must  say.  They  quite  take  the 
shine  off  ours.  Such  lovely  sashes  and  frocks ! 
I- can't  help  wishing  Ho&y  could  have  some 
like  them." 

"You  must  not  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said 
Veronica.  "We  cannot  pretend  to  compete 
with  Mrs.  John  in  such  matters;  and  whatever 
money  we  have  to  spend  for  Rosy  must  be 
saved  for  a  time  wheu  she  will  need  it  more 
than  now." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  so,"  said  Becky,  in 
whose  mind  always  rankled  a  certain  bitter- 
ness that  Mr.  John  Campion  should  have 
become  so  much  richer  than  her  favourite  Mr. 
Mark.  "And,  anyhow,  I  cannot  see  the  sense 
of  dressing  children  in  white  frocks  in  cold 
weather,  if  one  had  ever  so  much  money." 

"  X  or  I,"  replied  Veronica.  "  I  can  see  no 
beauty  in  a  custom  which  seems  so  very  inap- 
propriate to  the  climate;  and  the  danger  from 
fire  is  something  not  to  be  thought  of  without 
a  shudder." 

Rosy    slept   till    after   dinner,    and    awoke 


THE    ROSE   TRANSPLANTED.  75 

smiling  and  happy  to  her  supper  of  bread  and 
milk.  She  was  soon  seated  on  the  carpet,  sur- 
rounded by  her  stock  of  new  playthings,  and 
taking  up  one  after  another  with  a  quiet,  ob- 
servant curiosity  which  diverted  Mark  greatly. 

"The  child  will  have  a  turn  for  science," 
said  he,  laughing.  "  She  accepts  nothing  with- 
out investigation." 

"  I  see  you  are  planning  her  future  already," 
said  Veronica. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  you  know  it  is  my  nature 
to  look  forward.  I  am  always  at  least  three 
chapters  ahead  in  my  book." 

"  I  foresee  that  the  said  book  is  provided  with 
a  formidable  rival,"  remarked  Veronica.  "  You 
must  not  let  the  new  child  interfere  with  the 
claims  of  the  old  one.  You  ought  to  be  well 
forward  with  it;  and  you  have  lost  a  good  deal 
of  time  during  the  last  two  weeks." 

"  Oh,  Veronica,  what  a  merciless  taskmaster 
you  are!"  groaned  Mark,  looking  at  his  desk. 
"Do  let  me  have  this  one  evening  to  play  with 
baby." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  put  on  that  injured  air, 
— as  Anne  says  when  I  object  to  her  contradict- 
ing my  orders,"  said  Veronica,  gayly.  "I  had 
no  intention  of  setting  you  to  work  to-night." 


7G  THE   TWIN    KOSES. 

"  But  I  must  go  to  work  of  my  own  accord, 
though/'  said  Mark,  starting  up.  "  I  promised 
Bacon  to  come  down  and  correct  those  proof's 
this  very  night.  We  will  have  prayer  before 
I  go.  Don't  sit  up  for  me,  Veronica.  I  shall 
be  sure  to  be  late." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  puzzles  me,"  said 
Becky,  thoughtfully.  Rosy  was  in  bed  by  this 
time,  and  Becky  had  brought  her  knitting  to  the 
parlour  fireside.  She  often  did  so  when  Vero- 
nica was  alone, — thus  affording  another  ground 
of  stricture  to  Anne,  who  "  wondered"  that 
Veronica  could  allow  Becky  to  take  such  liber- 
ties. Becky  was  sitting  bolt  upright,  according 
to  custom,  in  the  hard,  straight-backed  chair 
which  she  affected  on  these  occasions,  her  knit- 
ting-work progressing  with  the  regularity  of 
machinery. 

"There  is  one  thing  which  always  puzzles 
me,"  she  replied,  laying  down  her  knitting, 
and  thoughtfully  scratching  her  head  with  the 
needle. 

"If  there  is  only  one  thing,  Becky,  you  are 
better  off  than  most  of  us,"  replied  Veronica, 
rousing  herself  from  a  fit  of  abstraction.  "But 
what  is  your  particular  puzzle  just  now?" 

"  Well,  it  is  none  of  my  business,  exactly," 


THE    ROSE    TRANSPLANTED.  77 

said  Becky,  in  rather  an  apologetic  tone.  "  I 
was  wondering  how  it  happens  that  Mr.  John 
should  have  been  so  much  more  successful  than 
Mr.  Mark.  Mr.  Mark  has  more  sense  in  his 
little  finger  than  Mr.  John  has  in  his  whole 
body.  Yes,  he  has,  Mrs.  Mark,"  she  repeated, 
anticipating  an  interruption  from  Veronica. 
"  I  was  brought  up  with  them,  and  I  ought  to 
know;  and  every  one  liked  Mr.  Mark  the  best. 
I  don't  see  how  it  is." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  it  is  so,  Becky?"  asked 
Veronica.  "Are  you  quite  certain  that  Mr. 
John  is  the  most  successful  ?" 

."Well,  he  is  the  richest,  if  you  come  to 
that,"  said  Becky. 

"There  can  be  no  question  of  that;  but 
making  money  is  only  one  kind  of  success, — 
nay,  it  may  be,  no  success  at  all." 

Becky  looked  doubtful. 

Veronica  proceeded: — "A  successful  man  is 
a  man  who  attains  the  object  upon  which  he 
has  set  his  heart;  and  unless  one  knows  what 
that  object  is,  one  cannot  tell  whether  he  is 
successful  or  not." 

"Mr.  John  set  his  heart  upon  getting  rich 
from  the  time  he  was  a  little  boy,"  observed 
Becky.  "  I  have  often  heard  him  talk  about 


78  THE   TWIN   EOSES. 

it.  He  always  said  he  would  make  a  fortune 
and  then  sit  down  and  enjoy  it." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  how  much  is  a  fortune  ?" 

"  A  fortune  is  generally  a  little  more  money 
than  folks  have  got,  I  think,"  said  Becky. 

Veronica  laughed.  "Exactly  so,  Becky. 
That  seems  to  be  what  Mr.  John  thinks.  He 
has  made  money  hand  over  hand  for  the  last 
ten  years.  I  suppose  he  is  one  of  the  richest 
men  in  the  city;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
come  to  the  stopping-place,  for  he  works  quite 
as  hard  and  allows  himself  just  as  little  recrea- 
tion as  he  did  when  he  first  began  business. 
So  it  seems  he  cannot  be  called  a  successful 
man,  after  all." 

"  Well,  now,  supposing  that  is  so,"  said 
Becky,  who  was  usually  very  cautious  in  giving 
her  assent  to  any  thing :  "  what  aim  did  Mr. 
Mark  set  before  himself?" 

"To  glorify  God  and  enjoy  him  forever," 
said  Veronica,  with  emphasis.  "  That  was 
the  aim  that  Mark  set  before  himself  early  in 
life;  and  in  that  he  has  certainly  succeeded, 
thus  far." 

"  No  one  knows  that  better  than  I  do,"  re- 
turned Becky,  with  equal  emphasis.  "If  any 
one  ever  did  glorify  God  in  his  life  and  con- 


THE   ROSE   TRANSPLANTED.  79 

versation,  that  man  is  Mark  Campion.  Even 
in  the  darkest  days,  when  you  were  sick,  and 
we  were  in  debt  and  hardly  knew  where  to 
turn  for  the  next  day's  meals,  and  the  dear 
little  boy  was  taken  away,  I  never  heard  a 
murmur  or  complaint  from  his  lips, — no,  not 
when  he  had  to  work  half  the  night  to  earn 
the  wood  which  he  cut  up  with  his  own  hands. 
I  hcive  often  wondered  why  so  much  trouble 
was  allowed  to  come  upon  you,  of  all  people  in 
the  world.  You  seemed  to  need  it  so  little." 

"  The  only  answer  to  all  such  questions  is 
that  of  our  Father  himself: — 'As  many  as  I 
love  I  rebuke  and  chasten  ;'  f  All  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God.' 
Those  are  the  answers  we  must  rest  upon, 
Becky.  I  confess  with  shame  that  I  could  not 
always'do  so;  but  I  believe  Mark's  faith  never 
failed  for  an  instant." 

"Mine  did,  I  know,"  said  Becky.  "But, 
after  all,  Mrs.  Mark,  I  cannot  help  wishing 
sometimes  that  Mr.  Mark  was  rich,  so  that  he 
need  not  have  to  work  so  hard." 

"  Hard  work  is  good  for  him,  Becky.  Don't 
you  know  that  his  spirits  and  health  are  always 
best  when  he  has  the  most  upon  his  hands?  I 
do  wish  sometimes,  however,  that  he  was  not 


80  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

obliged  to  work  so  late  at  night.  It  is  bad  for 
his  eyes.  But  I  think  we  are  pretty  well  off 
at  present,  Becky :  don't  you?  What  do  we 
want  very  much  that  we  do  not  have?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Becky,  con- 
sidering. "  I  should  like  you  to  have  a  car- 
riage and  horses:  only  then  we  should  have  to 
keep  a  man,  and  that  is  such  a  bother." 

Becky  always  spoke  of  men  in  the  abstract 
as  though  they  were  noxious  animals,  not  to 
be  endured  about  the  house  except  in  cases  of 
the  utmost  need. 

"  We  have  always  the  street-cars,  you  know," 
said  Veronica.  "Well,  what  next?" 

"  Well,  let  me  see.  There  would  be  no  use 
in  furnishing  this  room  any  smarter,  as  long  as 
we  use  it  so  commonly ;  and  I  can't  see  the  use 
of  rooms  if  you  don't  use  them.  I  am  sure 
this  old  ingrain  carpet  is  easier  to  sweep  than 
a  Brussels  or  velvet, — especially  as  Mr.  Mark 
will  scatter  his  shavings  from  one  end  of  it  to 
the  other.  Besides,  this  room,  just  as  it  is, 
looks  prettier  than  Mrs.  John's  grand  parlours, 
after  all.  Somehow,  her  rooms  never  have  a 
home-like  look.  I  don't  think  any  rooms  ever 
look  so,  where  people  never  have  any  thing 
doing." 


THE    ROSE   TRANSPLANTED.  81 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,  Becky.  No  room 
seems  pleasant  to  me  where  there  are  no  work- 
baskets,  or  ink-stands,  or  books  made  to  be  read, 
or  newspapers,  or  magazines.  But,  I  confess,  I 
should  like  to  have  money  enough  to  fit  up 
the  side  room  properly  with  bookcases  and 
make  a  library  of  it." 

"  You  would  hardly  want  to  do  that  just 
now."  observed  Becky,  folding  up  her  knit- 
ting. "  A  bedroom  down-stairs  is  a  great  con- 
venience when  there  is  a  baby  about  Well, 
Mrs.  Mark,  I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed.  You  ought 
to  go  too;  but  of  course  you  won't:  so  there  is 
no  use  in  talking.  I'll  just  make  up  the  cakes, 
and  take  one  look  at  the  baby.  Bless  her  litllo 
heart!  she  is  sleeping  just  like  a  picture." 


82  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MISS    BROWN. 

FEW  days  after  the  coming  of  the 
babies,  Veronica  called  upon  her 
sister-in-law.  She  found  her  seated 
in  her  new  nursery,  holding  the 
little  Kitty,  and  amusing  her  with  a 
"crying  baby,"  while  various  other 
expensive  toys  were  scattered  about  the 
floor.  Kitty  was  splendidly  dressed  in 
white,  with  a  Roman  scarf  a  quarter  of  a  yard 
wide  for  a  sash.  The  room  was  warm ;  but  the 
child's  bare  arms  looked  red  and  mottled. 
Anne  held  her  up  for  Aunt  Veronica's  inspec- 
tion, with  a  not  unjustifiable  pride;  and  cer- 
tainly the  little  creature  did  look  very  pretty 
indeed. 

"Now,  is  not  that  a  handsome  frock?"  said 

Anne.     "  Did  you  ever  see  such  open-work  in 

your  life?     It  is  more  like  lace  than  cambric." 

"  It  is  certainly  very  beautiful,"  said  Vero- 


MISS    BROWX.  83 

nica.  "Who  did  it?  Mrs.  Wicks,  1  .sup- 
pose ?" 

"  Xo,  indeed,"  replied  Anne,  colouring. 
"Mrs.  Wicks  will  never  do  a  stitch  of  work 
for  mo  again.  Just  think  !  she  had  the  impu- 
dence to  send  her  bill  to  John,  because  she 
said  I  kept  her  waiting  so  long  for  those 
worked  petticoats.  And  it  was  only  forgetful- 
ness  on  my  part,  too;  for  I  had  the  money  by 
me  all  the  time.  John  came  home  and  scolded 
me  like  every  thing  about  it.  He  said  he  never 
interfered  with  my  finery,  but  he  would  not 
allow  me  to  make  debts.  'Well,'  said  I, 
'  Mrs.  Wicks  has  got  her  money,  but  she  has 
lost  a  customer.  I  will  never  go  to  her  again.' 
And  I  never  have.  Miss  White  worked  all 
Kitty's  things." 

"Mrs.  Wicks  is  very  poor,  you  know,  Anne, 
and  she  has  had  a  groat  deal  of  expense  with 
her  family:  so  she  may  perhaps  be  excused  for 
a  little  over-eagerness.  She  told  me  herself 
.she  was  sorry  for  what  she  had  done,  but  she 
did  not  know  which  way  to  turn  for  money." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  persisted  Anne.  "  If  any- 
body ailronts  me  onee,  they  don't  have  a  chance 
to  do  so  again.  I  allow  of  no  interference  in 
inv  concerns." 


84  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Veronica  could  not  forbear  smiling,  but  she 
made  no  remark,  and  only  said,  "  Miss  White 
certainly  works  very  nicely.  But  are  you  not 
afraid  of  Kitty's  taking  cold,  with  these  bare 
arms  ?  You  know  she  is  transplanted  from  a 
warm  climate." 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  believe  in  coddling  chil- 
dren," replied  Anne.  "I  believe  they  may  as 
well  be  hardy  as  tender,  if  people  only  think 
so.  I  always  thought  you  kept  yours  too 
warm;  and  that  was  one  thing  which  ailed 
them.  There,  now!  don't  put  on  your  martyr 
face.  I  don't  mean  to  "hurt  your  feelings:  only 
you  are  so  wonderfully  sensitive  and  touchy." 

"  I  think  nature  herself  teaches  us  that 
young  creatures  are  to  be  kept  warm,"  said 
Veronica,  who  knew  by  experience  that  the 
only  way  to  defend  herself  from  Anne's  accu- 
sations was  to  disregard  them.  "  See  how 
much  pains  she  takes  with  young  birds,  how 
the  cat  cuddles  her  little  kittens,  and  the  dog 
her  puppies,  and  even  how  the  buds  upon  the 
trees  are  wrapped  up.  Dr.  "Warren  says  that 
Boston  sacrifices  about  five  hundred  babies  a 
year  to  the  fashion  of  short  sleeves  and  bare 
necks." 

"  Dr.  Warren  is  an  old   fogy,"  said  Anne, 


MISS    BROWN.  85 

peevishly.  "  Do  you  suppose  if  short  sleeves 
had  been  so  bad  for  babies,  people  would  not 
have  found  it  out  by  this  time?  I  do  hate  to 
see  the  little  things  fussed  up  with  long  sleeves, 
like  old  women.  Oh,  Kitty,  what  have  you 
done?  You  have  pulled  poor  baby's  head 
off!  Now  it  cannot  cry  any  more.  But  never 
mind,  darling:  mamma  will  buy  you  another. 
If  you  want  to  buy  one  for  Rosy,  Veronica, 
they  have  them  at  Smith's." 

"  Rosy  will  have  to  play  with  dolls  of  home 
manufacture,  at  present,"  said  Veronica.  "I 
have  made  her  one  with  which  she  is  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  which  has  the  advantage  of  not 
being  breakable.  I  think  such  pretty  and  ex- 
pensive toys  are  thrown  away  upon  little  chil- 
dren. They  are  soon  soiled  and  broken  and 
lose  their  novelty,  and  by  the  time  the  children 
are  old  enough  to  appreciate  fhem  they  have 
become  an  old  story.  I  wish  to  keep  Rosy 
contented  with  cheap  and  small  pleasures  as 
long  as  possible." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  is  only  prudent  in  her 
case,  as  the  poor  child  has  so  little  to  look  for- 
ward to,"  said  Anne.  "But  I  must  tell  you, 
Veronica,  that  it  will  not  do  to  make  such  a 
very  marked  difference  between  the  children 


86  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

in  point  of  dress.  People  will  remark  upon 
it  if  you  do  so." 

"  If  people  will  not  mind  their  own  business, 
it  is  no  fault  of  mine,"  said  Veronica,  not 
without  emphasis.  "  I  shall  dress  Rosy  ac- 
cording to  my  means  and  the  best  of  my  judg- 
ment; and  I  certainly  shall  not  expend  upon 
finery  for  a  baby  the  money  which  will  be 
needed  for  her  education  by-and-by." 

"If  you  had  not  been  willing  to  take  some 
trouble  and  make  some  sacrifices  for  the  child, 
you  ought  not  to  have  taken  her,"  said  Anne. 
"I  shall  talk  to  Mark  about  it." 

"Do;  and  I  will  talk  to  John  about  Kitty's 
short  sleeves  and  the  danger  of  her  setting  her- 
self on  fire  with  her  muslin  frocks,"  said  Ve- 
ronica, laughing.  "  Which  of  us  do  you  think 
would  stand  the  best  chance  of  being  heard? 
Seriously,  Anne,  I  must  act  according  to  the 
best  of  my  judgment  about  this  child.  I  have 
taken  her  for  my  own,  and  I  must  rear  her 
as  my  own.  I  cannot  be  dictated  to  by  any- 
body." 

"Who  wants  to  dictate?"  said  Anne,  pee- 
vishly. "  You  think  yourself  so  very  perfect, 
that  if  any  one  gives  you  the  least  hint,  or  in- 
timates that  you  may  be  to  blame  in  any  thing, 


MISS    BROWN.  87 

you  fly  into  a  passion.  I  think  it's  very  hard, 
after  all  I  have  (lone  for  you,  if  I  cannot  give 
you  a  little  advice.  But  I  don't  expect  any 
gratitude  for  what  I  do  for  people.  I  have 
given  all  that  up  long  ago." 

"  As  to  that,"  said  Veronica,  "  if  we  were 
to  reckon  up  the  items,  we  should  perhaps  find 
the  account  more  nearly  balanced  than  you 
think.  Moreover,  you  should  remember  that 
benefits  with  which  one  is  constantly  re- 
proached cease  to  be  benefits,  and  become  in- 
juries. But  come,  Anne;  do  not  let  us  quar- 
rel. You  will  take  your  course,  and  I  must 
take  mine;  but  we  need  not  interfere  with  one 
another.  These  dear  babies  ought  to  be  a 
bond  of  union,  instead  of  a  cause  of  discord." 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to  quarrel;  only 
you  are  so  touchy,"  said  Anne. 

"Well,  let  bygones  be  bygones,"  returned 
Veronica.  "  Can  you  give  me  a  pattern  for  a 
baby's  cloak?  Mrs.  Kirkland  has  none  that 
I  think  pretty." 

In  displaying  and  commenting  on  Kitty's 
various  outer  garments,  all  Anne's  ill  humour 
vanished, — as,  to  do  her  justice,  it  was  apt  to 
do  after  a  short  indulgence, — and  the  sisters- 
in-law  parted  excellent  friends. 


00  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Becky/3  said  Veronica,,  one  day,  after 
dinner,  "  have  you  heard  any  thing  about  Miss 
Brown  lately?  I  have  been  so  busy  with  the 
baby,  and  all  the  rest,  that  I  have  hardly 
thought  of  her.  I  believe  I  will  carry  her 
some  of  this  apple-pudding.  It  will  be  just 
the  thing  she  will  be  likely  to  fancy." 

"I  will  carry  it  to  her  myself/'  replied 
Becky.  "  You  have  been  out  once,  and  that 
is  enough.  Poor  thing!  if  one  could  do  any 
thing  to  comfort  her,  one  ought  to  be  willing, 

1  am  sure." 

Becky  was  soon  on  her  way,  with  her  basin, 
and  some  of  her  famous  light  cakes,  wrapped 
in  a  white  napkin.  She  was  met  at  the  door 
of  Miss  Brown's  house  by  a  young,  crabbed- 
looking  woman,  with  a  whining  child  in 
her  arms.  She  seemed  annoyed  by  Becky's 
inquiry  for  her  aunt,  and  answered,  rather 
unwillingly, — 

"She  is  pretty  comfortable,  I  believe:  at 
least,  I  have  not  seen  her  for  some  days." 

"Not  seen  her!"  exclaimed  Becky.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Why,  you  see,  Rebecca,  aunt  was  not  very 
comfortable  here, — at  least,  she  was  not  at  all 
contented, — and  the  house  is  so  small  and  in- 


MISS    BROWN.  89 

convenient,  and  we  thought  she  would  perhaps 
be  happier  with  some  one  else;  and  so " 

"Out  with  it!"  said  Rebecca,  bluntly. 
"Have  you  sent  her  to  the  poor-house?  It  is 
no  more  than  I  have  been  expecting." 

"No,"  returned  Martha.  "The poor-house, 
indeed !  But  she  has  gone  to  the  Old  Ladies' 
Home;  and  I  only  hope  she  will  like  the 
change  as  much  as  we  do." 

"To  the  Old — Ladies'— Home !"  repeated 
Rebecca,  slowly.  "And  so,  Martha,  after  all 
the  rest,  you  have  finished  up  by  turning  the 
poor  old  woman  out  of  her  own  house  to  die 
among  strangers !" 

"I'm  sure  \ve  had  hard  work  enough  to 
raise  the  money,"  said  Martha,  beginning  to 
whimper.  "We  had  to  pay  two  hundred 
dollars  down,  for  all  it  is  called  a  charitable 
institution;  and  we  have  always  paid  the 
taxes  upon  the  house,  ever  since  we  came  to 
live  here:  so  it  ought  to  be  ours,  I  am  sure." 

"Yes, — out  of  your  aunt's  money,  that  she 
put  into  your  hands,  like  an  old  fool  as  she 
was!"  interrupted  Becky. 

"And  aunt  has  a  parlour  and  bedroom  of 
her  own,  and  closet  beside, — which  is  more  than 
she  needs,  in  my  opinion,"  continued  Martha, 


1)0  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

in  the  same  tone.  "We  have  had  to  let  her 
take  furniture  for  them  ;  and  now  she  wants 
the  secretary  and  sofa,  and  I  don't  see  how  we 
can  spare  them.  I  wish  people  would  just  let 
us  alone!" 

"Oh,  we  shall  let  you  alone,  never  fear," 
said  Rebecca,  grimly.  "You  don't  suppose 
any  of  us  are  coming  here  for  your  sake,  do 
you?  Only  just  let  me  tell  you,  at  parting, 
if  the  judgment  of  Heaven  don't  fall  on  you 
in  some  shape,  Martha  Brown,  I  shall  be  mis- 
taken. Your  days  will  not  be  long  in  the 
land,  I  guess.  I  wonder  you  dare  look  at  that 
child  in  your  arms,  when  you  think  how  you 
have  treated  the  woman  who  was  a  mother  to 
you  when  your  own  mother  abandoned  you  in 
her  shame.  Oh,  yes!  you  see  I  know  all 
about  it;  and  so  shall  other  folks,  I  promise 
you,  unless  you  do  the  poor  old  woman  justice. 
Every  one  round  here  thinks  you  are  Miss 
Brown's  niece;  but  I  know  better.  I  well 
remember  your  mother, — poor  wretch! — and 
how  she  died,  too." 

"I'm  sure,  Rebecca,  you  won't  be  so  cruel 
as  to  bring  up  all  that  story?"  whimpered 
Martha.  "Even  Tom's  family  don't  know 
any  thing  about  it." 


MISS    BROWN.  91 

"  Let  me  see  how  you  behave,  and  then  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  replied  Becky, 
turning  away. 

"You  may  as  well  leave  what  you  have  got 
in  your  basin,"  said  Martha.  "You  won't 
want  to  carry  it  back  again." 

"  Oh,  it  aVt  heavy,"  returned  Becky.  "  I 
would  not  presume  to  offer  it  to  folks  that 
have  got  a  house  of  their  own.  Good-by, 
Martha.  I  hope  your  sin  won't  be  visited  on 
your  children :  that's  all !" 

"  Why  have  you  brought  your  pudding 
back  again?"  said  Veronica,  in  surprise. 
"What  has  happened?" 

"  The  old  lady  has  moved,"  replied  Becky. 

"  AVrhat  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Or,  rather,  she  has  been  moved,"  continued 
Becky.  "They  have  sent  her  to  the  Old 
Ladies'  Home.  I  gave  Martha  a  piece  of  my 
mind  at  parting:  that  is  one  comfort.  She 
wanted  me  to  leave  the  pudding  for  her;  but  I 
wasn't  going  to  do  that,  anyhow." 

"And  so  they  have  sent  the  poor  woman 
away  from  her  own  home,  to  finish  her  days 
in  an  almshouse!"  said  Veronica.  "Not  but 
she  will  be  a  hundred  times  better  off  in  the 
Home ; — but  what  black  ingratitude !  I  wonder 

8* 


92  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

if  Martha  can  know  any  thing  of  her  own  true 
history." 

"Oh,  yes:  she  knows  it,  and,  more  than 
that,  she  knows  that  I  know  it,  too,"  said 
Becky.  "I  told  her  as  much  to-day.  Folks 
say  adopted  children  almost  always  turn  out 
that  way.  I  hope  this  darling  won't." 

"I  trust  not,  Becky.  At  any  rate,  we  will 
not  borrow  any  trouble  about  it  yet.  I  will 
try  to  go  round  and  see  Miss  Brown  to- 
morrow. She  must  think  it  strange  that  I 
have  not  been  near  her." 

The  next  day  Veronica  put  Rosy  in  her 
little  carriage,  one  of  the  few  new  things  which 
had  been  bought  for  her,  and  went  to  pay  a 
visit  to  Miss  Brown.  The  Old  Ladies'  Home 
was  a  charitable  institution,  richly  endowed  by 
two  old  maiden  ladies,  both  with  lands  and 
money,  for  the  benefit  of  sixteen  single  women 
and  widows  of  good  report,  who  should  bring 
their  own  beds  and  tables  and  two  hundred 
dollars  in  money.  The  bequest  had  greatly 
increased  in  value  during  forty  years,  and,  as 
the  funds  were  honestly  managed  and  none 
of  them  diverted  for  any  other  purpose,  the 
old  ladies  were  made  extremely  comfortable. 
Veronica  found  Miss  Brown  in  a  good-sized 


MISS   BROWN.  93 

and  lofty  room,  well  furnished  with  carpet  and 
curtains,  a  pleasant,  sunshiny  window,  and  a 
nice  little  stove  at  which  she  could  prepare  her 
own  meals,  if  she  preferred  doing  so  to  going 
to  the  public  table.  A  door  near  the  fire- 
place opened  into  a  small  but  very  neat  bed- 
room, and  another,  with  glass  in  the  top,  into 
a  large  pantry  or  storeroom.  The  sun  shone 
in  pleasantly,  the  room  looked  cheerful  and 
orderly,  and  as  Veronica  entered  and  glanced 
about  her  she  thought  her  old  friend  had  de- 
cidedly changed  for  the  better. 

"  It  is  very  good  in  you  to  come  and  find 
me  out  so  soon,"  said  Miss  Brown,  rising  from 
her  arm-chair  to  greet  her  friend.  "  I  have 
been  looking  for  you,  and  should  have  sent 
you  word  of  the  change  I  have  made;  but  I 
had  no  messenger.  And  who  is  this  little 
girl?" 

"  This  is  my  little  daughter  Kosy,"  replied 
Veronica.  "  She  and  her  concerns  have  been 
the  cause  of  my  long  absence:  so  I  thought  I 
would  bring  her  to  make  her  own  apology. 
We  have  adopted  her  in  the  place  of  those 
God  has  taken  to  Himself." 

"Pretty  darling!"  said  Miss  Brown,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  hope  she  may  be  a 


94  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

comfort  to  you,  Veronica.  Is  she  an  or- 
phan ?" 

"Yes.  Her  father  died  before  she  was  born, 
and  her  mother,  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine, 
was  buried  two  or  three  weeks  ago.  She  has  a 
twin  sister,  whom  Mrs.  John  Campion  has 
taken  for  her  own." 

"And  have  the  children  no  family  friends  at 
all?" 

"No  one  but  an  aunt,  who  lives  in  New 
Orleans  and  is  not  likely  to  interfere  with 
them." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  said  Miss 
Brown.  "  I  hope  God  will  give  you  grace  to 
train  this  child  up  in  the  way  she  should  go, 
and  make  her  a  blessing  to  you.  What  shall 
I  find  to  amuse  her?" 

"'She  will  be  very  well  contented  with  any 
thing  or  nothing,"  said  Veronica.  "  That  bas- 
ket of  yarn  balls  will  be  a  great  delight,  if 
there  is  nothing  in  it  which  she  can  hurt.  She 
seems  to  have  a  faculty  of  amusing  herself,  and 
will  sit  on  the  floor  for  two  hours  at  a  time,  as 
happy  as  a  kitten." 

"  That  is  an  excellent  habit,  and  one  to  be 
cultivated  by  all  means,"  said  Miss  Brown. 
<(  Veronica,  whatever  you  do,  don't  make  your- 


MISS    BROWX.  95 

self  a  slave  to  the  child.  Make  her  understand 
early  that  it  is  her  place  to  please  and  wait 
upon  you.  You  will  both  be  the  happier  for 
it  in  the  end." 

"I  believe  yon  are  right,"  said  Veronica, 
thoughtfully.  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive." 

"That  was  the  mistake  I  made  from  the 
first,"  continued  Miss  Brown,  resuming  her 
knitting.  "I  made  myself  a  slave  to  Martha. 
I  humoured  her  in  every  fancy.  No  matter 
what  I  was  doing,  I  laid  aside  every  thing  to 
amuse  and  gratify  her.  Ah,  it  was  a  great 
mistake !" 

"It  does -not  excuse  Martha,  however,"  said 
Veronica. 

"  I  made  another  great  mistake  in  my  anxiety 
to  secure  the  child's  a  Motion,"  continued  Miss 
Brown.  "  I  never  governed  her.  I  thought  sho 
would  not  love  me  if  I  contradicted  her,  and 
so  I  let  her  have  her  own  way  in  every  thing. 
]  did  not  teach  her  to  fear  God, — for  I  hardly 
knew  Him  myself  in  those  days, — and  I  did 
not  teach  her  to  treat  me  with  even  common  re- 
spect. I  well  remember  one  day,  when  Martha 
was  about  four  years  old,  a  neighbour  came  in, 
and  I  was  telling-  her  of  something  the  child  had 


96  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

done.  'I  didn't,  either,  any  such  thing,'  said 
Martha,  in  her  lisping  way.  'Don't  be  so  ridi- 
culous, aunty !'  I  laughed,  and  thought  it  very 
smart;  but  the  neighbour  looked  grave.  ( That 
sounds  amusing  now,'  said  she;  '  but  how  will 
it  sound  when  she  is  twelve  or  fourteen  ?'  '  Oh, 
she  will  know  better  by  that  time,'  said  I. 
But  when  I  tried  to  teach  her  better  I  found 
it  was  not  so  easy.  I  had  trained  her  to  think 
all  I  did  for  her  no  more  than  her  due.  If  I 
did  not  work  for  her,  I  was  greatly  to  blame. 
If  I  did,  it  was  no  more  than  she  had  a  right 
to  expect;  and  she  never  dreamed  of  thanking 
me.  Ah,  it  was  a  great  mistake !  I  ruined 
the  child  I  wished  to  benefit,  and  prepared  a 
bed  of  thorns  for  my  old  age.  May  God  for- 
give me!" 

"You  must  not  reproach  yourself  too  deeply," 
said  Veronica,  kindly.  "You  acted  for  the 
best." 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Brown,  shaking  her 
head:  "I  dare  not  think  so.  It  was  selfish- 
ness, Veronica, — selfish  love  of  ease  and  fear 
of  trouble.  It  distressed  me  to  hear  the  child 
cry  and  to  see  that  she  was  unhappy.  She 
had  a  strong  will, — at  least,  she  was  very  wil- 
ful,— and  it  seemed  so  much  easier  at  the  time 


MISS    BROWN.  97 

(o  let  her  have  her  own  way,  or  to  coax  her 
into  doing  what  I  wanted,  than  it  was  to  con- 
tradict her.  I  hope  God  will  forgive  me, — 
nay,  I  believe  He  ha-s  forgiven  me;  but  I 
must  bear  the  sting  of  seeing  the  fruit  of  my 
doings  constantly  before  my  eyes.  I  pray  night 
and  day  that  it  may  not  be  visited  on  Martha 
and  her  children." 

"  \Vas  not  your  move  rather  a  sudden  one?" 
asked  Veronica,  willing  to  divert  her  old 
friend  from  such  a  painful  topic.  "I  heard 
nothing  of  it  till  Becky  went  over  to  see  you 
last  night." 

"  Very  sudden  to  me,"  said  Miss  Brown ; 
"  though  I  believe  Martha  and  her  husband 
have  had  it  in  contemplation  for  a  long  time, 
and  were  only  waiting  for  me  to  reach  the  re- 
quired age.  I  was  sixty  years  old  only  a  day 
or  two  before  Martha  came  into  my  room  and 
told  me  that  Thomas  had  paid  the  money  into 
the  Home  for  me,  and  that  my  room  was  ready. 
It  gave  me  a  terrible  shock,  I  must  confess,  and 
at  first  I  almost  thought  I  could  not  bear  the 
change;  but  I  soon  found  I  could  not  help 
myself.  I  had  put  the  house  out  of  my  hands 
with  my  other  property,  and  I  had  made  no 
stipulation  as  to  a  home  for  myself.  But  the 


98  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

furniture  in  the  house  is  still  mine;  and  I 
should  like  to  have  a  little  more  of  it,  particu- 
larly my  dear  mother's  sofa,  and  the  secretary, 
arm-chair,  and  clock  which  belonged  to  my 
father's  study.  I  have  his  books,  as  you  see," 
(pointing  to  a  glass  corner-cupboard  contain- 
ing a  large  number  of  well-bound  and  care- 
fully-preserved volumes.)  "  I  believe  Martha 
thought  them  only  so  much  useless  lumber, 
and  not  worth  house-room.  But  I  should  like 
to  have  the  other  things,  if  possible." 

"  I  will  see  what  can  be  done,"  said  Vero- 
nica, who  thought  she  saw  her  way  to  a  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty.  "Do  you  find  yourself 
comfortable  here?" 

"  Very  much  so.  They  are  all  kind  to  me, 
and  I  am  most  bountifully  supplied  with  fuel 
and  provisions.  I  prepare  my  own  breakfast 
and  tea,  as  I  can  thus  take  my  own  time  about 
it;  and  every  thing  is  very  handy  for  me,  as 
you  see." 

"  I  must  bring  you  some  pictures  for  your 
walls,"  said  Veronica.  "  Mark  has  heaps  of 
prints  and  photographs  for  which  we  have  no 
room ;  and  you  should  have  some  plants  in  that 
sunny  window." 

"  I   should  like  them  very  much,  and  also 


MISS    BROWN.  99 

a  little  dog  or  cat  to  keep  me  company.  1 
miss  the  children." 

"I  think  I  can  help  you  to  one,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  My  sister-in-law  has  a  very  pretty 
little  black  spaniel  for  which  she  wishes  to 
find  a  home,  and  I  am  sure  she  would  be 
pleased  to  give  it  to  you.  I  will  see  her  about 
it  to-day." 

Veronica  only  stopped  at  home  long  enough 
to  give  Rosy  into  Rebecca's  charge,  and  then 
went  straight  down  to  her  brother-in-law's 
office.  She  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  him 
alone.  John  waked  up  from  his  abstraction 
at  the  sight  of  Veronica,  for  whom  he  had  a 
great  regard  and  respect,  and  listened  to  her 
story  with  great  attention. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  you  can  do  any  thing 
about  it,  brother,"  she  concluded,  "  but  I  know 
you  have  business  dealings  with  Thomas  James, 
and » 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  John,  rubbing  his  eye- 
glasses. "  I  will  attend  to  the  matter.  I  told 
the  old  lady  she  was  foolish  to  trust  him  so 
far;  but  of  course  she  wouldn't  be  advised. 
How  is  the  baby  ?  The  most  wonderful  child 
that  ever  lived,  of  course." 

"  We  think  so,"  said  Veronica,  smiling. 


100  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  And  so  do  we.  I  want  to  make  Rosy  a 
present,  Veronica,"  John  continued,  putting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  drawing  out  a 
gold  piece;  "but  I  never  know  what  to  buy 
for  children:  so  I  leave  it  to  you.  As  for 
Miss  Brown,  the  old  lady  shall  have  her  fur- 
niture. I  know  where  to  put  the  screws  on." 

How  the  screws  were  to  be  put  on,  Vero- 
nica did  not  inquire,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  did 
not  greatly  care.  She  knew  that  her  brother- 
in-law  was  a  just  and  prudent  man,  and  not 
one  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  She 
called  on  Anne  and  secured  the  spaniel  for 
Miss  Brown,  and  then  went  home,  well  satis- 
fied with  her  morning's  work.  A  few  days 
afterwards,  going  to  carry  the  dog  to  its  new 
home,  she  found  Miss  Brown  rejoicing  in  the 
possession  of  her  household  goods,  with  the 
tall  clock  ticking  away  in  the  corner,  and  the 
little  bird  in  the  top,  popping  out  of  his  house 
to  proclaim  the  hours,  as  though  he  had  never 
lived  anywhere  else.  The  screws  had  evidently 
been  applied  to  good  purpose. 


MISUNDERSTANDING. 


101 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MISUNDERSTANDING. 

%  OME  to  tea,  Veronica,  you  and 
Mark,  and  bring  Rosy  with  you. 
I  want  to  see  the  children  to- 
gether.  You  have  not  been  at 

our  house  to  tea  this  winter.     Now, 

. 
promise  you  will  come." 

"  I  cannot  promise  for  Mark  till  I  have 
seen  him  ;  but  you  may  expect  Rosy  and 
Rosy's  mamma,"  said  Veronica.  "I  am  going 
down  town,  and  will  speak  to  Mark  on  my 
way ;  and  I  promise  you,  if  it  be  possible,  I 
will  bring  him  out  to-night." 

"  Mark  is  very  unsocial,"  said  Anne.  "  It 
seems  the  hardest  work  in  the  world  to  drag 
him  out  anywhere." 

"  I  admit  that  he  is  apt  to  be  remiss  in  his 
social  duties,"  replied  Veronica,  smiling.  "His 
dressing-gown  and  his  whittling,  as  Becky 
disrespectfully  calls  his  wood-carving,  have 


102  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

such  charms  for  him,  after  a  hard  day's  work, 
that  it  is  very  difficult  to  induce  him  to  leave 
them  for  the  ' customary  suit  of  solemn  black' 
required  on  social  occasions.  But,  if  you  will 
allow  him  to  come  in  his  gray  clothes,  I  will 
see  what  I  can  do." 

This  conversation  passed  between  the  sisters- 
iu-law,  in  Anne  Campion's  drawing-room, 
about  four  months  after  the  adoption  of  the 
children.  In  spite  of  Becky's  prophecy,  Anne 
had  not  "grown  tired  of  her  doll."  On  the 
contrary,  she  seemed  to  become  more  and  more 
fond  of  it  every  day.  Kitty  was  a  wonder- 
fully engaging  child,  and  soon  wound  herself 
very  closely  round  the  hearts  of  the  household, 
— even  of  John  Campion,  who  had  never  before 
been  known  to  take  the  slightest  notice  of  any 
baby. 

Child-like,  Kitty  soon  found  out  her  own 
powers.  She  discovered  that  her  mamma 
could  not  bear  to  hear  her  cry,  and  that  to 
scream  for  any  thing  was  to  get  it,  if  she  only 
screamed  loud  and  long  enough.  She  was  not 
backward  in  exercising  this  power.  That  very 
morning,  Veronica  had  seen  a  fine  specimen. 
Kitty  caught  sight  of  a  very  small  and  very 
precious  pair  of  china  vases  mounted  in  gilt 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  103 

filigree,  and,  in  her  pretty,  peremptory  way,  de- 
manded one  of  them  for  a  plaything. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Anne,  coaxingly:  "Kitty 
cannot  have  the  vase.  Kitty  would  break 
mamma's  pretty  vase.  Kitty  may  have  her 
blocks  with  the  pictures.  See  the  pretty 
mooly  cow."  But  Kitty  had  seen  the  pretty 
rnooly  cow  a  great  many  times,  and  the  vase 
wa«  a  novelty. 

"Cup,  Kitty!  cup!"  she  repeated,  still 
stretching  out  her  hand. 

"  How  plainly  she  begins  to  speak ! — doesn't 
she?"  said  the  fond  mother.  "No,  no.  Kitty 
can  have  her  own  pretty  silver  cup,  but  not 
mamma's  vase." 

But  Kitty  persisted,  and  at  last  flung  her- 
self on  the  floor  and  screamed  with  all  her 
might. 

"  There,  there!  don't  cry:  mamma's  pet  shall 
have  the  cup;  but  she  must  be  very  careful. 
She  has  such  a  strong  will,"  she  added,  speak- 
ing to  Veronica.  "It  is  very  hard  for  her  to 
give  up  any  thing  upon  which  she  sets  her 
heart.  I  think  she  will  have  a  great  deal  of 
force  of  character  and  perseverance  in  whatever 
she  undertakes." 

"Perhaps   so,"  replied    Veronica;    "but    I 


104  THE  TWIN  KOSES. 

don't  think  that  perseverance  and  wilfulness 
always  go  together :  do  you  ?" 

"  I  suppose  you  would  not  have  given  her 
the  vase  if  she  had  screamed  herself  into  con- 
vulsions," said  Anne;  "but  my  notions  are 
different.  I  like  to  see  character  develop 
itself  freely  and  in  its  own  way.  It  makes 
children  artificial  and  deceitful  to  put  such  a 
restraint  upon  them  as  many  people  do.  Be- 
sides, I  think  it  very  bad  for  children  to  cry. 
I  am  convinced  that  it  affects  their  heads." 

Veronica  made  no  answer  to  this  oracular 
theory,  but  she  could  not  help  thinking  that 
it  depended  upon  the  kind  of  character  whether 
it  should  be  allowed  to  develop  itself  freely 
or  not.  She  saw  that  Anne  was  laying  up 
trouble  both  for  herself  and  the  child;  but 
she  knew  by  experience  that  it  was  worse  than 
useless  for  her  to  say  any  thing. 

Creeping  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  Kitty 
turned  her  new  plaything  over  a  few  times,  and 
then,  taking  it  by  the  handle,  she  began  pound- 
ing it  with  all  her  small  force  upon  the  floor. 
Anne  sprang  to  the  rescue;  but  she  was  too  late. 
The  precious  pale-green  china  flew  into  frag- 
ments, which  were  scattered  far  and  wide. 

"  You  naughty,  naughty  child !"  exclaimed 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  105 

Anne.  "You  have  ruined  mamma's  pretty 
vase,  that  she  gave  five  dollars  for  only  yester- 
day. Naughty  Kitty!  Mamma  does  not  love 
her  when  she  does  so." 

Kitty  screamed  louder  than  ever. 

"Oh,  you  are  quite  intolerable  this  morning. 
I  shall  send  for  Jane,"  said  Anne,  ringing  the 
bell.  "  Here,  Jane,  take  Miss  Kitty  away,  and 
pacify  her,  if  you  can.  My  poor  little  vase! 
Dear  me!  I  think  children  are  troublesome 
comforts,  after  all." 

"  I  con  Id  have  told  you  that,"  remarked 
Veronica.  "The  best  of  children  make  a  great 
deal  of  trouble;  and  Kitty  and  Rosy  are  just 
at  the  trying  age." 

"  It  is  an  interesting  age,  too,  I  think,"  said 
Anne. 

"All  ages  are  interesting  to  one  who  really 
cares  for  children.  But  I  am  sorry  for  your 
vase." 

"  Yes ;  it  spoils  the  pair,  and  they  are  very 
uncommon,"  said  Anne.  "  However,  children 
will  be  children." 

"One  would  not  have  them  any  thing  else," 
said  Veronica, — thinking,  however,  that  there 
was  a  difference  in  children. 

"Kitty  is  growing  a  regular  little  Tartar," 


106  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

said  Mark,  when  Veronica  repeated  Anne's 
message  to  him.  "I  must  say,  I  don't  care  to 
have  Rosy  see  a  great  deal  of  her." 

"  We  cannot  help  it,  my  dear  Mark.  They 
must  be  together  more  or  less,  and  all  we  can 
do  is  to  make  the  best  of  matters.  There  is 
no  need  of  Kitty  being  a  Tartar,  any  more  than 
Rosy;  but  when  she  finds  out  that  she  has 
only  to  cry  for  a  valuable  piece  of  china  to 
have  it  given  her  for  a  plaything,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  she  cries.  You  would  soon  find 
Rosy  doing  the  same  thing,  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,  for  the  sake  of  the  child, 
if  for  nothing  else,"  said  Mark,  thoughtfully. 
"  Cannot  you  give  her  a  hint,  Veronica  ?  You 
have  had  so  much  more  experience  with  chil- 
dren than  she  has,  you  know." 

"The  idea  of  Anne's  taking  a  hint  from 
me  about  any  thing!"  said  Veronica,  laughing. 
"Besides,  she  acts  according  to  her  theory  of 
education.  She  says  that  character  should  be 
allowed  to  develop  itself  freely." 

"Oh,  if  she  has  a  theory  of  education,  I  have 
done,"  replied  Mark.  "There  is  no  more  to 
be  said:  only,  I  am  sorry  for  the  child.  But 
cannot  you  let  me  oif  for  to-night,  Veronica? 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  107 

You  and  Rosy  can  go,  and  I  will  come  for 
you." 

"  I  neither  can  nor  will  let  you  off,"  said 
Veronica.  "You  are  to  bear  your  share  of 
the  duties  of  life,  as  well  as  other  people;  and 
it  is  not  kind  to  Anne  to  refuse  her  express  in- 
vitation for  no  better  reason  than  because  you 
are  lazy.  I  will  tell  you,  for  your  comfort, 
however,  that  Anne  says  you  may  come  in 
your  gray  clothes.  Now,  mind  you  don't  dis- 
appoint me." 

Mark  gave  a  grunt  of  resignation  and  ac- 
quiescence, and  returned  to  his  writing.  He 
would  have  pleaded  fatigue  and  stupidity  when 
tea-time  came,  but  Veronica  was  inexorable, 
and  produced  him  in  Anne's  parlour  at  the 
time  appointed.  She  had  expended  part  of 
Uncle  John's  gold  piece  on  a  delicate  rose- 
coloured  merino  frock  for  baby,  which  she  had 
pleased  herself  with  embroidering  to  the  ex- 
tent of  her  skill. 

"  Well,  Veronica,  I  must  say,  you  do  make 
the  child  look  very  pretty, — very,  indeed," 
said  Anne,  as  the  little  girl's  wrappings  were 
removed.  "  If  it  were  not  for  those  odious 
long  sleeves,  I  don't  know  but  I  should  like 
the  coloured  frocks  as  well  as  white  ones;  and 


108  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

they  certainly  clo  save  a  great  deal  of  trouble; 
but  the  sleeves  spoil  every  thing.  Let  me  take 
off  her  sack  for  once: — there!  see  how  much 
prettier  she  looks.  Come,  now,  do  have  them 
off." 

"When  summer  comes,"  said  Veronica, 
smiling.  "I  should  not  dare  to  take  them  off 
now." 

"Well,  I  must  say,  you  are  very  obstinate. 
Just  see  how  well  Kitty  has  been  all  winter." 

"  Kitty  is  stronger  than  Rosy ;  and,  more- 
over, I  think  I  have  heard  of  Kitty's  having 
more  than  two  or  three  bad  colds.  But,  Anne, 
just  make  the  case  your  own.  How  would 
you  like  to  go  about  the  house  these  cold  days 
with  your  neck  and  arms  all  bare?" 

"It  is  different  with  children,"  said  Anne. 

"  I  do  not  know  why.  However,  there  is 
no  particular  use  in  arguing  the  case  any  more, 
that  I  know  of.  Please  to  admire  my  wreath 
of  oak-leaves  and  acorns.  It  is  my  own  de- 
sign and  my  own  work." 

"  It  is  lovely,"  said  Anne.  "  I  always  say 
you  have  the  prettiest  patterns  of  any  one.  I 
wish  you  would  make  one  for  me." 

"  I  will  make  any  number  of  patterns  for 
you,"  replied  Veronica ;  "  but  I  rather  doubt 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  109 

Miss  White's  willingness  to  work  after  my 
designs.  She  has  a  great  conceit  of  her  talent 
in  that  way.  Now  let  us  go  down-stairs,  or 
Mark  will  think  himself  deserted,  and  run 
away  home." 

"  So  you  really  did  come,  Mark  ?  It  is 
more  than  I  expected,"  said  Anne.  "  You  shall 
have  a  grand  cup  of  coffee  to  pay  for  your 
extra  goodness." 

"  Thank  you.  You  know  I  appreciate  your 
coffee,  Anne.  Veronica  never  will  let  me 
have  it  strong  enough.  She  pretends  it  is  all 
for  my  good,  you  know,"  he  added,  confiden- 
tially ;  "  but  I  know  better.  It  is  because 
Becky  is  stingy,  and  Veronica  dares  not  con- 
tradict her.  Halloo,  Kittens!  Come  and  see 
Uncle  Mark.  Up  she  goes!  That's  the  way 
to  play  with  kittens." 

"  Take  care,"  said  Veronica.  "  Kitty  is  not 
used  to  such  rough  play.  She  has  no  one  to 
make  a  ball  of  her,  as  you  do  of  Rosy." 

"Oh,  yes!  John  romps  with  her  half  the 
evening.  I  often  think  he  will  break  her 
neck.  But,  Mark,  now  don't  you  think  that 
babies  look  prettier  in  low  necks  and  short 
sleeves  ?  Don't  you  think  Rosy  would  look 
better  if  she  were  dressed  like  Kitty,  instead 


110  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

of  being  fussed  up  like  an  old  woman,  as  she 
is  now  ?" 

This  was  one  of  Anne's  "  ways."  She  never 
knew  how  to  let  drop  a  disputed  point,  be  it 
ever  so  small,  but  would  bring  it  up  again  and 
again,  and  upon  all  occasions. 

"  I  never  saw  an  old  woman  in  a  short  red 
frock  and  white  apron,"  said  Mark,  gravely. 
"As  to  the  short  sleeves,  I  certainly  agree  with 
you  that  they  are  very  pretty." 

"  There,  Veronica !"  exclaimed  Anne :  "  I 
knew  Mark  would  say  so.  Any  one  with  any 
taste  would  agree  with  me." 

"  I  generally  think  children  look  all  the 
prettier  the  less  clothes  they  have  on,"  con- 
tinued Mark,  seriously.  "  I  once  saw  half  a 
dozen  little  New  Zealand  girls  elegantly  dressed 
in  one  large  blue  bead  apiece ;  and  I  never  saw 
children  look  prettier.  Nevertheless,  I  think 
such  a  costume  would  look  rather  too  cool  and 
airy  in  this  climate;  and  I  think  the  same  ob- 
jection applies  to  short  sleeves  in  winter." 

"  Nonsense,  Mark !     That  is  very  different." 

"A  difference  in  degree,  but  not  in  kind, 
my  dear  sister, — though  I  admit  the  degree  is 
a  long  one." 

"There  is  no  use  in  talking  to  men  about 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  Ill 

such  things,"  said  Anne.  "  They  never  can 
understand." 

"  I  am  fully  conscious  of  my  deficiencies  in 
that  respect,"  said  Mark,  meekly ;  "  and  there- 
fore I  leave  all  such  subjects  to  my  wife.  I 
never  have  an  opinion  of  my  own  after  I  have 
passed  the  door  of  iny  own  house.  I  put  all 
my  self-appreciation  in  my  pocket  with  .my 
latch-key  at  night,  and  never  take  it  out  till  I 
reach  the  office  next  morning.  I  used  to  have 
some  spirit  before  I  was  married,  I  believe; 
but  Veronica  and  Becky,  between  them,  have 
taken  it  all  out  of  me." 

"  Becky,  indeed  !  I  would  soon  teach  Becky 
her  place,"  said  Anne,  with  dignity.  "  She 
would  never  go  on  so  in  my  house,  I  promise 
you." 

"  She  would  not  go  on  at  all  in  your  house ; 
because  you  would  not  live  together  a  week," 
said  Veronica.  "Becky  has  her  faults,  I 
admit,  and  sometimes  she  is  disposed  to  be 
rather  tyrannical ;  but  we  have  learned  to  know 
each  other's  ways,  and  we  have  rubbed  through 
too  many  hard  times  together  to  part  easily. 
Her  great  fault  is  an  unwillingness  to  allow  the 
family  quite  enough  to  eat." 

"  I   am  not  sure  but  that  is  a  good  fault, 

10 


112  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

after  all,"  said  Anne.  "  Our  new  cook  makes 
away  with  groceries  at  a  dreadful  rate.  She 
actually  used  up  fifteen  pounds  of  butter  in 
one  week,  Veronica !  What  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

"  I  think  she  never  used  it  at  all,"  replied 
Veronica. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  so  too,"  said  Anne. 
"  And  yet  I  do  not  like  to  believe  that  such  a 
nice,  pleasant-mannered  woman  would  rob  me. 
She  has  lived  in  the  best  families,  too." 

"So  she  says." 

"  Why,  don't  you  believe  it  ?" 

"  I  neither  believe  nor  disbelieve  it,  Anne. 
I  know  nothing  about  the  matter;  but  what 
is  that  to  the  purpose,  if  the  woman  is  waste- 
ful or  dishonest  ?" 

Anne  did  not  know,  exactly,  and  therefore 
turned  the  conversation. 

"Please  to  admire  your  present,  Uncle 
John,"  said  Veronica,  directing  his  attention 
to  E-osy's  frock. 

"  My  present?"  said  John,  who  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  matter.  "Well,  I  am  sure  the 
child  looks  very  neat  and  comfortable, — very 
creditable  to  you,  Veronica,  I  must  say.  Anne, 
why  don't  you  put  such  frocks  and  aprons  on 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  113 

Kitty?  Her  arms  are  always  cold.  Just  feel 
them  now, — even  in  this  warm  room." 

Here  was  an  unexpected  blow.  John  hardly 
ever  noticed  any  article  of  dress.  Anne  coloured, 
and  darted  an  angry  glance  at  Veronica,  as 
though  suspecting  her  of  prompting  the  ques- 
tion, as  she  answered,  sharply,  "  I  suppose  I 
can  dress  my  own  child  as  I  please." 

"That  depends,"  said  John.  "Why,  the 
child  has  got  on  muslin  frocks,  as  I  am  alive!" 
he  exclaimed,  just  awakened  to  the  fact,  though 
the  said  frocks  had  been  before  his  eyes  all 
winter.  "  Muslin  frocks,  with  the  thermometer 
almost  at  zero!  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  ?  Put  a  woollen  frock  on  her,  directly." 

"  She  has  not  a  woollen  frock  in  the  world," 
said  Anne.  "  Nobody  of  any  taste — no  one 
who  can  afford  to  dress  children  decently — puts 
coloured  frocks  upon  babies  before  they  are 
three  years  old." 

"  Veronica  does,  you  see." 

"Veronica  may  do  as  she  pleases,  and  I 
shall  do  as  I  please,"  said  Anne. 

"  Mrs.  Campion,"  said  John,  deliberately, 
"  you  will  have  some  woollen  frocks  with  long 
sleeves  made  for  that  child,  and  keep  them  on 
her  till  the  weather  is  warm, — warm,  do  you 


114  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

hear?  Let  them  be  bought  and  made  to-mor- 
row; and  there  is  the  money  to  pay  for  them." 
And  he  tossed  some  bills  across  the  table  to  his 
wife.  "It  is  no  wonder  the  child  is  threatened 
with  croup  every  other  week.  I  wonder  how 
she  has  lived  at  all,  such  a  winter  as  we  have 
had." 

John  very  rarely  took  these  fits  of  authority ; 
but,  when  he  did,  he  regarded  neither  time  nor 
place,  and  his  decrees  were  as  absolute  as  those 
of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  This  Anne  knew 
very  well,  and  she  also  knew  that  there  was 
no  use  in  venting  any  irritation  on  her  hus- 
band, as  he  minded  her  no  more  than  the 
rhinoceros  minds  the  birds  pecking  on  his 
back.  So  she  turned  the  vials  of  her  wrath 
upon  Veronica,  whom  she  chose  to  consider 
the  cause  of  this  outbreak. 

"  Come  into  my  room  and  have  a  smoke," 
said  John  to  his  brother,  after  tea.  "  I  have 
some  prime  Turkish  tobacco, — real  Latakia." 

"  I  have  given  up  smoking  for  some  time," 
replied  Mark.  "  I  found  it  too  expensive  a 
vice  for  a  poor  man.  However,  I  don't  mind, 
just  for  once,  if  Veronica  gives  me  leave." 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  Veronica  will  give  you 
leave,  since  it  is  at  John's  expense,"  said  Anne, 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  115 

unable  to  repress  her  vexation  any  longer. 
"  We  have  all  heard  of  the  man  who  could 
drink  any  given  quantity."  This  polite  speech 
was  lost  upon  Mark,  who  had  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  and  Anne  at  once  turned  the  cur- 
rent of  her  wrath  upon  Veronica. 

"  Well,  Veronica,  I  must  say,  you  have 
played  your  cards  well.  John  told  me  one 
day  that  you  had  been  at  his  office;  but  I 
really  never  imagined  what  your  errand  was. 
I  will  thank  you,  however,  not  to  interfere 
between  me  and  my  husband  again." 

"But,  Anne,  I  have  not  interfered,"  re- 
plied Veronica,  gently.  "  I  have  not  been  to 
the  office  since  Christmas-time;  and  then  I 
never  mentioned  Kitty's  name.  My  errand 
related  to  some  business  which  I  wished  to 
have  done  for  Miss  Brown.  But,  even  if  I 
had  done  so,  it  would  be  no  worse  than  your 
appeal  to  Mark  about  Rosy's  dress." 

"I  did  that  openly,"  said  Anne,  a  little 
taken  aback.  "  I  did  not  go  to  work  to  un- 
dermine you  and  make  mischief  behind  your 
back.  It  is  a  shame, — so — and  about  my  own 
child,  too!"  she  added,  in  tears.  "You  had 
better  take  the  baby  away  at  once,  if  that  is 

the  course  you  mean   to  take.     I  am  sure  I 
W* 


116  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

never  would  have  had  any  thing  to  do  with 

her,  if  I  had  known "  Anne's  voice  was 

drowned  in  sobs. 

"  Anne,  don't  be  a  baby  yourself,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  Do  listen  to  reason.  I  have  never 
said  one  word  to  John  or  yourself  about  the 
dress  or  management  of  Kitty,  since  you  have 
had  her,  except  when  you  have  asked  my 
opinion.  I  should  not  think  of  such  a  thing. 
Neither  have  I  ever  interfered  with  any  affair 
of  yours  since  you  were  married.  You  know 
best  whether  you  can  say  the  same  of  mine." 

"And  there  are  all  her  nine  frocks  just  good 
for  nothing!"  continued  Anne.  "Such  pains 
as  I  took  with  them  !  and  every  one  said  she 
was  the  best-dressed  child  in  the  street." 

"  The  white  frocks  will  be  just  as  pretty  next 
summer,"  said  Veronica,  consolingly;  "and 
you  can  make  the  merino  frocks  as  elegantly 
as  you  please.  I  will  work  you  one  like 
Kosy's,  if  you  like.  And  moreover,  Anne,  I 
think  white  frocks  are  really  going  out.  I 
called  at  Cedar  Hill  yesterday,  and  saw  Mrs. 
Miller's  children;  and  they  all  had  coloured 
frocks, — even  the  baby.  You  know  she  is 
always  in  the  height  of  fashion." 

"  To  be  sure,  I  might  have  white  cashmere 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  117 

for  her  best;  and,  I  must  say,  John  has  been 
very  liberal,"  said  Anne,  brightening  up  a 
little,  and  counting  her  cash.  "  But,  for  all 
that,  Veronica,  I  do  think  you  did  wrong  to 
interfere." 

"  But,  Anne,  I  did  not  interfere.  I  never 
said  one  word,"  replied  Veronica, — hardly 
knowing  whether  to  be  angry  or  amused. 
"  Have  you  ever  found  me  out  in  a  great  many 
lies,  that  you  refuse  to  believe  me  now?" 

"  Oh,  well,  perhaps  you  did  not  mean  to ; 
but  you  certainly  did,"  said  Anne.  "  There 
are  other  ways  of  interfering  besides  in  words. 
However,  I  shall  say  no  more:  only,  this  must 
be  the  last  time.  I  have  borne  a  great  deal 
from  you,  but  I  cannot  have  you  making  mis- 
chief between  me  and  my  husband.  That  is 
the  one  thing  I  won't  stand." 

Veronica's  patience  with  Anne  was  a  three- 
fold cord,  not  easily  broken;  but  perhaps  it 
had  been  considerably  chafed  in  former  en- 
counters, for  it  now  snapped  all  at  once.  She 
rose,  and  began  putting  up  her  work. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Anne,  sur- 
prised, as  she  always  was  upon  such  occa- 
sions. 

"  I   am   going  home,"  said   Veronica,  dis- 


118  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

tinctly.  "  When  you  can  learn  not  to  insult 
your  invited  guest  in  your  own  house,  I  may 
perhaps  return,  and  not  before.  Come,  Rosy." 

"Why,  Veronica,  what  do  you  mean? 
How  have  I  insulted  you  ?" 

"By  calling  me  a  mischief-maker,  and  by 
more  than  insinuating  that  I  am  a  liar." 

"Why,  Veronica,  how  can  you  say  so? 
I  did  not  mean  any  such  thing.  I  only 
meant " 

"  You  only  meant  to  vent  your  ill  humour 
on  the  person  you  thought  would  bear  it  best, 
I  suppose,"  said  Veronica,  as  Anne  paused, 
not  quite  knowing  what  she  intended  to  say; 
"  but  you  must  understand,  Anne,  that  if  we 
are  to  be  friends  you  must  learn  to  rein  your 
tongue.  I  shall  not  submit  to  such  treat- 
ment." 

"  Oh,  don't  go,  Veronica,"  exclaimed  Anne, 
really  frightened.  "John  will  be  so  angry." 

"  That  is  your  affair,  not  mine." 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean  any  thing," 
continued  Anne :  "  only,  I  was  provoked  with 
John  for  coming  out  in  that  way  before  you, 
and  I  did  not  know  what  I  said.  And  I  have 
got  such  a  nice  supper,  too, — -just  what  I  know 
Mark  likes  best.  Please  don't  go.  Come; 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  119 

you  know  I  always  say  what  comes  upper- 
most," 

"  You  would  do  well  to  take  care  what 
comes  uppermost,  in  that  case, — at  least  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Veronica,  yielding, 
however,  to  Anne's  entreaties,  and  resuming 
her  seat ;  "  for  I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  I  shall 
not  feel  obliged  to  endure  any  more  such  lan- 
guage." 

Anne  would  perhaps  have  continued  the 
subject,  for  she  had  an  undying  affection  for 
the  last  word,  and,  if  she  made  any  apology 
whatever,  she  usually  spoiled  it  as  soon  as 
made;  but,  fortunately,  she  was  called  from  the 
room,  and  when  she  came  back  she  was  fur- 
nished with  a  new  subject  by  the  wastefulness 
of  the  cook,  who  had  used  up  all  the  cream, 
so  that  there  was  none  for  the  apricot  tarts. 

"So  you  have  given  up  smoking,  Mark?" 
said  John,  as  he  offered  pipe  and  tobacco  to  his 
brother.  "What  induced  you  to  do  that? 
You  used  to  be  the  greatest  old  chimney  I 
knew." 

"  Why,  smoking  is  an  expensive  vice  for  a 
poor  man,  as  I  told  you,"  replied  Mark,  in  the 
process  of  lighting  his  pipe.  "  I  don't  like 
any  tobacco  but  the  best;  and  that  is  costly. 


120  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Besides,  I  was  in  debt ;  and  I  have  a  theory 
that  people  who  owe  money  have  no  right  to 
luxuries." 

"That's  a  good  doctrine,  anyhow,"  said  his 
brother,  sinking  into  his  favourite  arm-chair 
and  putting  up  his  feet  luxuriously.  "  I  wish 
more  people  held  it.  But,  bless  you,  the  peo- 
ple who  owe  the  most  are  those  who  have  the 
most  to  spend.  AVho  drives  such  fine  horses 
and  makes  such  a  show  as  the  Blairs  ?  And 
yet  Blair  cannot  hold  a  cent  of  property  in 
his  own  name,  and  has  not  done  so  these  ten 
years." 

"  That  is  not  my  way,"  said  Mark,  assum- 
ing an  equally  free-and-easy  position  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fire.  "  As  long  as  I  was  in 
debt,  I  felt  that  I  was  living  upon  other  peo- 
ple's money." 

"  Well,  there  is  our  church,  now,"  continued 
John.  "  We  are  in  debt  for  the  very  ground 
the  house  is  built  upon;  and  yet  we  have  just 
bought  a  grand  new  organ,  and  a  set  of  painted 
windows,  and  I  don't  know  what  besides. 
What  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"  The  principle  seems  to  me  the  same,"  re- 
plied Mark :  "  only,  I  think  such  a  course  is 
worse  in  a  church  than  in  a  private  indi- 


MLS  UNDERSTANDING.  121 

vidual,  because  the  example  is  more  widely 
spread." 

"  But  you  are  not  in  debt  now,  are  you, 
Mark  ?" 

"  No, — thank  God !"  said  Mark,  devoutly  : 
"  I  owe  no  man  any  thing." 

"Then  I  think  you  might  indulge  now  and 
then." 

"  Well,  perhaps  so,  John ;  but,  after  all,  I 
am  just  as  well  without  tobacco,  and  better. 
The  money  which  I  should  waste  in  smoke 
goes  for  things  which  do  not  perish  so  quickly 
in  the  using.  Then,  I  have  a  new  motive  to 
economy,  since  we  have  taken  the  child  to 
bring  up.  And,  to  conclude,  Veronica  doesn't 
like  the  smell." 

John  gave  a  kind  of  grunt,  which  might 
mean  either  dissent  or  approval.  "Do  you 
expect  to  have  any  thing  to  leave  the  child?" 
he  asked,  after  another  interval  of  silence. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  mean  she  shall  have  a 
thoroughly  good  education, — as  good  as  I  can 
give  her;  and  I  have  already  doubled  my  life- 
insurance  for  her  benefit." 

"  Right, — quite  right,"  interrupted  John. 

"And  if  this  book  succeeds,  as  seems  likely, 
I  may  have  something  more." 


122  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

"  I  read  the  chapters  published  in  the 

what's  its  name?"  said  John.  "I  am  no 
great  judge;  but  I  thought  them  very  clever. 
And  do  you  keep  your  premiums  paid  up? 
Excuse  me  for  asking, — it  is  no  business  of 
mine, — but  it  is  important  to  do  so ;  and  if  you 
should  be  short  of  ready  money  at  any  time, 
you  know  I  can  always  accommodate  you." 

"Thank  you,  John;  but  I  have  done  very 
well  hitherto." 

"  Don't  hesitate  to  ask  me,  if  yon  want 
money  at  any  time,  Mark.  We  have  taken 
different  paths  in  life;  but  that  is  no  reason  we 
should  not  help  one  another  all  we  can." 

"You  are  very  kind,  brother,"  said  Mark, 
with  glistening  eyes;  for  he  was  easily  moved, 
and  any  expression  of  affection  was  rare  with 
John.  "If  I  should  need  any  thing,  I  will 
not  hesitate  to  apply  to  you;  but  I  am  really 
doing  very  well.  It  was  only  my  long  illness 
and  poor  Becky's  mishap,  with  the  sickness 
and  death  of  our  Annie,  that  threw  me  back. 
We  are  all  well  now, — thank  God !  My  wife  is 
the  best  manager  in  the  world,  and  puts  money 
in  my  purse  instead  of  taking  it  out.  Our 
wishes  are  modest,  you  know ;  and  really  we 
are  very  comfortable." 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  123 

"  John,"  continued  Mark,  after  an  interval 
of  some  minutes,  "will  you  excuse  me  if  I 
ask  you  a  question  about  your  own  business  ?" 

"  Fire  away,"  said  John.     "What  now?" 

"  Have  you  ever  made  a  will?" 

"  Long  ago.  Just  after  I  was  married.  You 
will  find  I  have  not  forgotten  you,  old  fellow." 

"  That  was  not  what  was  in  my  mind,"  said 
Mark. 

"You  need  not  tell  me  that,  Mark  :  I  know 
you  better.  But  what  were  you  thinking  of?" 

"I  was  thinking  of  Kitty,"  said  Mark. 
"  Ought  you  not  to  fnake  some  provision  for 
her?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I  cannot  say  I  had 
thought  of  it,"  said  John,  putting  down  his 
pipe  and  looking  at  his  brother.  "Perhaps 
it  will  be  best.  To  tell  the  truth,  Mark, — 
though  I  dare  say  you  will  think  it  all  non- 
sense,— a  will  is  about  the  last  business  paper 
that  I  want  to  touch.  I  made  my  will  once, 
as  I  said,  just  after  I  was  married;  and  I  have 
never  looked  at  it  since." 

"  You  are  no  more  likely  to  die  for  making 
your  will." 

"Of  course  I  know  that.     It  is  merely  a 

fancy  of  mine.     But  I  think   you    are    right 
11 


124  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

about  providing  for  Kitty.  It  won't  do  to 
leave  her  altogether  dependent  upon  Anne. 
She  is  a  good  woman,  but  she  sometimes  takes 
freaks,  and,  like  other  women,  she  knows  no- 
thing at  all  of  business." 

"Why  don't  you  teach  her,  then?  Vero- 
nica is  as  good  a  man  of  business  as  I  am, — 
though  I  dare  say  you  think  that  is  no  great 
praise,"  he  added,  smiling  as  he  saw  his  brother 
smile.  "  But  now  confess,  John,  that  you  un- 
derrate me.  Did  not  I  always  pay  my  interest 
at  the  bank  to  a  day?" 

"Always;  but  then  confess,  Mark,  in  your 
turn,  that  you  are  not  a  money-making  man." 

"  Mine  is  not  a  money-making  trade.  I 
knew  that  when  I  took  it  up.  But,  if  I  were 
you,  I  would  teach  Anne  to  understand  com- 
mon business." 

"  I  should  dearly  love  to  see  you  do  it." 

"  I  would  certainly  try.  What  is  to  be- 
come of  her  if  she  is  left  to  manage  for 
herself?" 

"  She  won't  be  left  to  manage  for  herself.  I 
have  taken  care  of  that.  As  for  Veronica,  she 
is  one  by  herself,  and  no  more  a  rule  for  other 
women  than  our  mother  was.  As  to  providing 
for  Kitty,  depend  upon  it,  Mark,  I  will  see  to 


MISUNDERSTANDING.  125 

the  matter;  and  I  thank  you  for  reminding  me 
of  it.     I  will  add  a  codicil  to  my  will." 

"A  codicil  to  his  will  ?  What  should  he  do 
that  for  ?"  thought  Anne,  who  caught  the  last 
words  as  she  came  to  call  the  gentlemen  to 
supper.  "I  wonder  what  Mark  has  been  at 
now,  talking  to  John  about  his  will?  After 
all,  I  believe  Veronica  did  say  something  to 
John  about  Kitty's  dress.  It  would  be  just 
like  her, — always  pretending  to  act  from  a 
sense  of  duty.  I  shall  always  think  so." 


126  THE  TWIN   EOSES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   BEEACH  WIDENS. 

Anne  always  did  think  so. 
Weeds  often  take  strong  root  in 
very  shallow  soil;  and  the  roots 
of  Anne's  prejudices  were  an- 
chored in  the  rock, — the  stratum  of 
obstinacy  which  often  underlies  a 
weak  character.  When  she  once  took  a 
dislike  to  anybody,  from  whatever  cause, 
that  person  could  nevermore  do  any  thing 
right  in  her  eyes.  Every  action,  however 
praiseworthy  or  however  harmless,  was  dis- 
torted to  suit  her  preconceived  theory.  Under 
all  her  consciousness  of—superiority  to  Vero- 
nica there  lurked  always  an  uneasy  feeling  of 
jealousy,  which  was  not  lessened  by  John's 
praises  of  his  sister-in-law,  whom  he  was  wont 
to  designate  as  a  "  brick,"  "  a  regular  sensible 
woman." 

This  jealousy  was  nothing  new.     It  dated 


THE   BREACH    WIDENS.  127 

back  to  their  school-days,  when  it  was  ac- 
counted a  great  triumph  to  put  Saint  Veronica 
out  of  temper,  and  when  the  fact  of  having 
made  Veronica  cry  was  enough  to  put  Anne 
in  the  best  of  spirits  for  several  days  together. 
Still,  they  had  always,  as  cousins,  maintained 
a  certain  degree  of  friendly  intercourse,  and 
"got  on"  pretty  well  together,  especially  since 
Anne  had  had  household  cares  of  her  own  on 
which  to  bestow  some  part  of  those  energies 
which  had  aforetime  been  wont  to  expend 
themselves  upon  other  folks'  business.  But 
Anne  had  now  the  idea  firmly  fixed  in  her 
mind  that  Veronica  had  interfered  in  her  man- 
agement of  Kitty;  and  she  clung  to  it  with  the 
tenacity  of  certain  kinds  of  crabs,  which  can 
never  leave  off  pinching  whatever  they  happen 
to  take  hold  of.  The  sisters-in-law  never  met 
without  sundry  hints  and  innuendoes  on  Anne's 
part;  while,  at  the  same  time,  she  never  hesi- 
tated to  criticize  Veronica's  treatment  of  Rosy, 
even  before  the  child  herself. 

Veronica's  system,  if  she  could  be  said  to 

have  one,  was  indeed  very  different  from  Anne's. 

Sire  had  not  nearly  so  many  theories;  but  then 

had  a  great  deal  more  experience,  both  in 

school  and  at  home;  and  this  experience  led 


128  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

her  to  believe  that  the  sooner  children  learned 
implicit  obedience  the  better  it  was  both  for 
themselves  and  those  about  them.  Happily, 
Rosy  had  been  taught  this  lesson  to  some  ex- 
tent even  before  she  was  a  year  old ;  and  Vero- 
nica took  care  that  she  should  not  forget  it. 
She  did  not  wish  the  child  ever  to  remember 
the  time  when  she  had  not  done  as  she  was 
told. 

"  No,  no,  Rosy,"  she  said,  one  evening,  as 
the  little  girl,  who  had  climbed  upon  a  chair, 
was  stretching  out  her  hand  towards  Mark's 
wood-carving, — still  his  favourite  evening  re- 
laxation,— which  lay  en  the  middle  of  the 
table.  "  No,  no !  Baby  must  not  touch  papa's 
work." 

Baby,  now  getting  on  towards  four  years  old, 
looked  a  little  doubtful,  and  again  stretched 
out  her  hand  towards  the  forbidden  plaything. 

"No,  no,"  repeated  Veronica,  more  de- 
cidedly. "Does  Rosy  hear  mamma  say  no?" 

"  'Ell,"  said  the  little  one,  with  a  sigh  of 
resignation,  "then  Rosy  wants  the  Noah's 
Ark." 

"Oh,  yes;  Rosy  may  have  the  Noah's  Ark," 
said  Veronica,  reaching  the  plaything  in  ques- 
tion from  the  mantel-piece.  "  Rosy  may  have 


THE   BREACH   WIDENS.  129 

her   own    things;    but    she   must   not   touch 
papa's." 

"  Well,  I  declare !"  said  Anne,  who  was 
sitting  by :  "I  would  not  believe  there  could 
be  so  much  difference  between  twin  sisters. 
You  would  never  break  Kitty's  spirit  in  that 
way." 

"Kosy's  spirit  is  not  broken,"  replied  Ve- 
ronica. "  I  do  not  know  a  more  lively  child. 
She  plays  and  talks  from  morning  till  night." 

"  I  cannot  help  that,"  persisted  Anne.  "  Her 
spirit  must  be  broken,  or  she  would  never  give 
up  so.  She  will  never  have  any  force  of 
character,  you  will  see." 

"  Because  she  has  learned  to  obey  ?  I  think 
that  is  the  very  reason  why  she  will  have  it. 
The  sooner  children  learn  that  there  are  things 
in  the  world  which  they  cannot  do  and  must 
not  have,  the  better, — since  they  must  all  run 
against  such  things,  sooner  or  later." 

"  Let  them  enjoy  their  liberty  as  long  as 
they  can,  then.  I  would  rather  have  Kitty 
ten  times  more  troublesome  than  she  is,  than 
to  see  her  a  poor,  tame,  spiritless  thing,  with 
all  the  life  whipped  out  of  her." 

u  Do  you  think  Rosy  answers  that  descrip- 
tion?" 
i 


130  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Well,  perhaps  not  now;  but  she  will,  if 
you  go  on  as  you  have  begun.  I  should  be 
afraid  to  treat  a  motherless  child  so,  for  ray 
part.  I  should  expect  the  soul  of  her  mother 
to  descend  from  heaven  to  defend  her." 

"  I  don't  believe  Daisy  will  descend  from 
heaven  to  give  Rosy  Mark's  picture-frame  for 
a  plaything,"  said  Veronica,  dryly.  "  In 
making  Rosy  docile  and  obedient,  I  am  only 
carrying  out  the  work  which  her  own  mother 
began,  and  I  am  not  afraid  of  her  disapproval. 
Ilosy's  enjoyments  are  not,  and  will  not  be,  cur- 
tailed by  any  such  course :  on  the  contrary, 
they  are  increased.  A  child  once  thoroughly 
governed,  so  as  to  mind  by  a  word  or  a  look, 
may  be  safely  indulged  to  almost  any  extent; 
while  an  ungoverned  child  must  be  watched 
and  checked  every  moment,  to  prevent  it  from 
doing  mischief,  and,  after  all,  it  will  be  in 
scrapes  half  the  time." 

"  Now,  Veronica,  if  you  begin  to  talk  at  me, 
I  will  go,"  said  Anne,  who,  herself  a  perfect 
mistress  of  the  art  of  insinuation,  was  always 
suspecting  it  in  other  people.  "  If  you  think 
Kitty  such  a  very  bad  and  troublesome  child, 
I  will  take  care  henceforth  that  she  does  not 
come  in  your  way.  I  suppose  all  this  tirade 


1  Rosey  toddled  off,  proud  of  her  mission."  p.  131. 


THE   BREACH    WIDENS.  131 

grows  out  of  the  fact  that  the  poor  child  had 
the  misfortune  to  break  something  the  last 
time  she  was  here.  If  you  will  tell  me  the 
value  of  the  article,  I  will  pav  for  it." 

"Rosy,  it  is  almost  time  for  papa  to  come 
home,"  said  Veronica,  taking  no  notice  of 
Anne's  remark.  "  Run  and  ask  Becky  for 
his  slippers,  and  put  them  by  the  fire  for 
him." 

Rosy  toddled  off,  proud  of  her  mission, 
which  was  at  once  her  daily  duty  and  plea- 
sure. The  slippers  deposited  in  their  place, 
she  began  pulling  at  the  chair  in  which  her 
aunt  was  seated.  Veronica  took  no  notice, 
wishing  to  see  how  the  child  would  manage 
matters. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  my  chair,  Rosy  ?" 
asked  Anne. 

"Papa's  chair,  p'ese,  Aunt  Anne,"  said 
the  little  girl.  "Put  papa's  chair  by  the 
fire." 

"  And  what  will  you  give  me  ?     A  kiss  ?" 

"  1  will  say,  '  Tinkle,  tinkle,  'ittle  'tar,'  for 
you,"  replied  Rosy. 

"  Dear  me,  what  an  inducement !  I  suppose 
I  must  give  it  up." 

She  moved  as  she  spoke,  and  Rosy,  putting 


132  THE   TWIN   EOSES. 

forth  all  her  little  strength,  dragged  the  chair 
into  its  accustomed  corner,  and  was  starting 
off  about  something  else,  when  Anne  said, — 

"  But  stop,  l^osy.  You  promised  to  say 
'Twinkle,  twinkle,'  for  me." 

"Yes,  you  promised,  Rosy,"  said  Veronica; 
"and  you  must  keep  your  word,  you  know." 

"  I  want  to  see  Becky  make  the  cakes," 
pleaded  Rosy. 

"But  you  promised,"  repeated  Veronica. 

Rosy  looked  wistfully  at  the  door,  but  after 
a  moment's  pause  she  turned  back,  and,  plant- 
ing herself  on  the  hearth-rug,  repeated  the  lines 
with  great  emphasis  and  distinctness. 

"  Capital !"  said  Anne.  "  Do  you  know  any 
more  verses?" 

"  Yes :  I  know  '  A  very  young  lady,'  and 
' Thank  you,  pretty  cow,'  and  the  'House  that 
Jack  built,'  and  'On  Linden.'  Becky  says 
that.  And  I  can  say  my  hymns." 

"  Well,  now,  run  away  to  Becky,  and  ask 
her  to  bake  you  a  cake,  if  you  like,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  We  will  dispense  with  any  further 
display  of  your  accomplishments." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be  afraid  of 
hurting  her  head  by  teaching  her  so  much," 
said  Anne.  "  The  idea  of  a  child  of  that  age 


THE    BEEACH    WIDENS.  133 

learning  to  repeat  'Hohenlinden'!  Of  course 
she  cannot  understand  it." 

"  Of  course  not/7  said  Veronica.  "  No  one 
expects  her  to  do  so.  But  she  has  a  quick  ear, 
and  the  grand  music  of  the  lines  took  her 
fancy.  She  is  never  tired  of  hearing  verses 
repeated;  and,  as  Becky's  memory  is  a  store- 
house of  rhymes,  new  and  old,  she  often  enter- 
tain0 Rosy  in  this  way  for  hours  at  a  time. 
Rosy  picks  up  the  lines  which  please  her  ear; 
and  thus,  without  any  attempt  made  to  teach 
her,  she  has  learned  a  great  many." 

"  But  surely  it  must  be  bad  to  learn  so 
much  at  her  age/'  persisted  Anne.  "  Preco- 
cious children  never  grow  up  healthy,  either  in 
mind  or  body." 

"  My  dear  Anne,  I  don't  believe  'Nursery- 
rhymes'  or '  Original'  poems  ever  gave  any  child 
water  on  the  brain,"  said  Veronica,  smiling. 
"  Rosy  is  no  more  precocious  than  any  child 
who  lives  almost  entirely  with  grown-up  peo- 
ple. She  is  a  very  sweet,  playful  little  girl, 
with  an  active  mind,  which  must  needs  be 
employed  about  something;  but  even  my  par- 
tiality cannot  make  me  think  her  a  prodigy." 

"I  expect  she  will  turn  out  something  like 
that  poor  little  wretch  Howard  Cowley,  who 


134  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

is  being  paraded  about  the  country,"  said 
Anne.  "  He  certainly  is  a  prodigy.  I  never 
heard  any  thing  like  his  recitations.  They 
would  be  remarkable  even  in  a  grown  person." 

"  I  have  not  been  to  see  him,"  said  Vero- 
nica. "  I  think  all  such  exhibitions  very 
painful." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  will  ever  live  to  grow 
up,"  continued  Anne.  "  His  head  is  all  out 
of  shape  now.  I  determined  when  I  saw  him 
that  Kitty  should  never  be  hurt  in  that  way. 
I  think  you  ought  to  take  warning." 

"There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  be- 
tween allowing  a  healthy  child  to*"  learn  and 
repeat  verses  for  her  own  amusement,  and 
keeping  her  exhibiting  in  crowded  assembly- 
rooms  till  midnight  the  year  round.  I  would 
not  for  the  world  have  my  child's  health  in- 
jured; but  I  do  not  think  her  in  any  present 
danger." 

"  Oh,  well,  of  course  you  know  all  about  it. 
But  will  you  drive  with  me  to-morrow  after- 
noon ?  John  says  I  must  take  the  horses  out 
every  day,  or  he  will  sell  them." 

"  Unluckily,  I  have  an  engagement,"  said 
Veronica.  "  On  any  other  day  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted. But,  Anne,  if  you  are  going  alone, 


THE    BREACH    WIDENS.  135 

suppose  you  ask  Miss  Welles?  It  is  a  great 
pleasure  to  her  to  ride,  and  she  seldom  has  the 
opportunity ;  and  you  know  she  cannot  walk. 
It  would  be  a  real  kindness." 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  said  Anue. 
"  She  is  a  good  old  soul,  if  she  is  rather  poky 
and  fussy;  and,  as  you  say,  it  will  be  a  kind- 
ness." 

Anne  went  away  in  a  pretty  good  humour ; 
but  the  next  afternoon,  as  she  was  returning 
from  her  drive,  she  met  Veronica  and  Rosy 
just  coming  out  of  the  Old  Ladies'  Asylum. 

"So  that  was  the  engagement  which  pre- 
vented your  driving  with  me?"  said  she,  as  she 
drew  up  to  the  side- walk.  "Upon  my  word, 
Veronica,  I  feel  flattered !" 

"  I  could  not  help  myself,  Anne,"  replied 
Veronica.  "I  promised  Miss  Brown  that  I 
would  bring  Rosy  to  see  Beauty's  puppies,  and 
I  promised  Rosy  that  she  should  come." 

"  Rosy,  indeed !"  said  Anne,  scornfully. 
"Who  minds  a  promise  to  a  baby?" 

"  Rosy  is  not  exactly  a  baby,"  replied  Vero- 
nica; "and,  if  I  did  not  mind  my  promises 
to  her,  I  should  have  little  reason  to  suppose 
that  she  would  regard  hers  to  me.  You  are 
mistaken  if  you  think  I  would  not  keep  an 

12 


136  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

engagement  to  Rosy  or  Kitty  as  quickly  as  to 
a  grown  person." 

"Oh,  very  well.     Drive  on,  William." 

"  I  want  to  go  with  Aunt  Honey !"  cried 
Kitty,  who  was  very  fond  of  her  aunt  Ve- 
ronica,—  perhaps  because  she  was  the  only 
person  in  the  world  who  ever  governed  her. 

"No;  you  cannot  go  to-night.  Aunt  Roiiey 
does  not  want  you." 

"  Yes,  she  does.     Don't  you,  auntie  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  want  you,  if  mamma  is  will- 
ing,— not  else.  Do  Jet  her  come,  Anne.  I 
will  send  Becky  home  with  her." 

"  I  cannot  allow  it,"  said  Anne,  who,  like 
her  husband,  now  and  then  took  a  brief  spasm 
of  authority.  "  I  have  said  no,  and  that  is 
enough.  Drive  on,  William." 

Kitty  kicked,  screamed,  and  roared  with  all 
her  might,  much  to  the  discomfiture  of  poor, 
precise  Miss  Welles,  who  did  not  at  all  relish 
driving  through  the  principal  streets  of  the 
city  in  such  company. 

Veronica  pursued  her  way  with  Rosy,  and 
presently  saw  Anne's  carriage  draw  up  to  the 
side- walk  and  wait  for  her  to  come  up.  Kitty 
was  still  roaring  and  kicking. 

"  Veronica,  if  you  don't  mind  being  troubled 


THE   BREACH   WIDENS.  137 

with  Kitty,  I  really  wish  you  would  take  her," 
said  Anne,  colouring  a  little.  "  I  cannot  drive 
through  the  Avenue  with  the  child  in  this 
state.  I  will  send  for  her  by-and-by." 

Miss  Welles  looked  amazed  at  this  specimen 
of  family  government.  Veronica  suppressed 
her  smiles  as  well  as  she  could,  and  took  pos- 
session of  Kitty,  who,  having  gained  her  point, 
stopped  crying  directly,  and  was  as  placid  as 
possible.  She  enjoyed  her  visit  highly,  and 
never  thought  of  crying,  even  when  forbidden 
to  pull  the  tail  and  ears  of  Nero,  now  a  con- 
sequential and  dignified  cat. 

"Well,  Kittens,"  said  John  Campion,  when 
she  returned  home,  "what  did  auntie  say  to 
you  ?" 

"She  said,  'No,  no,  Kitty!'"  said  the  little 
girl,  seriously. 

"Indeed!  And  what  did  you  say?  Did 
you  scream  ?" 

"No,"  said  Kitty.  "I  was  a  good  girl. 
Auntie  said  so." 

"And  do  you  like  to  be  good  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Kitty,  still  more  seriously. 
"I  don't  always  like  to  be  good  and  not  touch 
Uncle  Mark's  things." 

"  That  is  it,  exactly,"  said  Anne.     "  '  Don't 


15S  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

touch !'  is  Veronica's  first,  second,  and  third 
commandment.  She  makes  a  regular  little 
slave  of  Rosy." 

"  She  takes  her  slavery  very  easily,"  re- 
marked John.  "  I  never  saw  a  livelier  or  hap- 
pier child.  And  as  to  the  not-touching  system, 
I  think  it  a  very  convenient  one.  Kitty  is 
really  very  troublesome  in  that  respect.  I 
think  she  is  old  enough  to  learn  to  let  things 
alone." 

"  She  is  nothing  but  a  baby,  Mr.  Campion. 
I  think  it  is  absurd  for  you  to  expect  her  to 
behave  like  a  grown  woman.  Such  wonder- 
fully perfect  children  never  live  to  grow  up. 
I  do  not  believe  Rosy  will  ever  see  twelve  years 
in  the  world." 

"  She  seems  healthy  enough,  for  all  I  see." 

"That  is  because  you  men  don't  understand 
such  matters.  Her  head  is  all  out  of  shape 
now;  and  no  wonder,  considering  the  way  she 
is  drilled  and  crammed  all  day  long.  I  shall 
speak  to  Mark  about  it." 

"You  had  better  not.  Mark  won't  relish 
any  interference,  I  can  tell  you.  He  thinks 
his  wife  perfection." 

"  They  need  not  interfere  with  me,  then," 
said  Anne,  peevishly.  "I  shall  never  get  over 


THE   BREACH   WIDENS.  139 

Veronica's  going  and  talking  to  you  about 
Kitty's  dress,  that  first  winter." 

"  What  upon  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?" 
asked  John,  in  great  amazement.  "  Veronica 
talk  to  me  about  the  child's  dress?  What 
could  put  such  a  notion  into  your  head  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  choose  to  deny  it,  I  shall 
not  contradict  you ;  but  I  know  she  did.  You 
would  never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  if 
some  one  had  not  put  you  up  to  it." 

"Nonsense!"  said  John,  gruffly:  "as  if  any 
person  of  common  sense  could  not;  see  that  a 
white  frock  and  short  sleeves  were  not  a  fit 
dress  for  a  child  in  cold  weather!  Veronica 
never  said  a  word  about  the  matter,  nor  any 
one  else." 

"  Oh,  well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  said 
Anne.  "  Come,  Kitty;  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed." 
But  Kitty  had  no  notion  of  going  to  bed,  and, 
as  usual,  carried  her  point  of  sitting  up,  till 
she  fell  asleep  in  her  chair. 


12* 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NELLY. 

'HE  next  year  passed  along  very 
quietly  with  our  friends.  Mark's 
book  was  published,  and  turned 
out  a  decided  success.  Edition 
after  edition  was  called  for;  the  book 
was  well  spoken  of  in  the  Reviews, 
and  the  great  monthlies  competed  with 
each  other  in  compliments,  and  requests  for 
contributions.  Money  flowed  in  upon  the 
family  in  South  Street,  and  Mark  found  him- 
self for  the  first  time  in  case  to  fulfil  the  che- 
rished wish  of  his  heart.  He  added  a  room  to 
his  house  for  a  library,  and  bought  the  vacant 
lot  next  him  for  a  garden.  John  ridiculed 
the  idea  of  the  library,  but  approved  of  the 
purchase  as  a  good  investment,  since  land 
in  that  neighbourhood  was  rapidly  rising  in 
value.  Anne  thought  the  library  a  good 
thing,  since  it  would  take  the  litter  of  Mark's 


NELLY.  141 

books  and  papers  out  of  the  sitting-room;  but 
she  thought  the  garden  great  nonsense,  and 
prophesied  that  Veronica  would  never  be  able 
to  keep  any  flowers,  with  a  child  of  Ilosy's  age 
running  about.  As  to  vegetables,  every  one 
knew  that  it  cost  twice  as  much  to  raise  as  to 
buy  them. 

"That  depends,"  said  Mark.  "  If  one  hires 
all  the  labour  done,  a  garden  is  doubtless  a 
very  ex-pensive  affair;  but  I  expect  to  do  the 
greater  part  of  the  work  myself,  with  what 
help  Veronica  and  Kosy  can  give  me.  I 
shall  not  aspire  very  high  at  present,  but  I 
think  we  may  compass  some  radishes  and 
salad,  tomatoes  and  cucumbers,  and  perhaps 
a  few  string-beans.  Such  things  taste  very 
differently  when  they  come  directly  from  the 
garden  to  the  table,  from  what  they  do  when 
brought  three  or  four  miles  to  market.  Then 
I  mean  to  have  some  raspberries  and  cur- 
rants, grape-vines,  and  a  cherry-tree  or  two, 
and  perhaps  some  dwarf  pears, — though  the 
last  are  rather  too  easily  stolen  to  be  entirely 
satisfactory." 

"You  will  never  succeed  in  the  world," 
said  Anne.  "  What  are  you  planting  now  ? 
Corn  ?  What  an  idea !" 


142  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  Popping-corn,  to  amuse  Rosy  and  Rosy's 
papa  in  the  winter  evenings." 

"  What  a  child  you  are,  Mark !  You  will 
never  be  any  thing  else,  I  do  believe." 

"  Never,  so  far  as  popped  corn  is  concerned, 
unless  I  lose  my  teeth;  and,  really,  I  don't  see 
why  I  should." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  a  man  who  had  been 
favourably  noticed  in  the  Reviews  might  be 
above  such  child's-play." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  find  myself  so  much 
changed  by  the  praise  of  the  Reviews,"  said 
Mark,  putting  on  a  look  of  deep  consideration. 
"  Have  you  observed  any  alteration  in  me, 
Veronica  ?" 

"  Really,  I  cannot  say,"  replied  Veronica, 
laughing.  "Becky  says  the  last  jug  of  syrup 
has  gone  off  faster  than  usual,  and  that  she 
cannot  keep  any  cakes  unless  she  hides  them ; 
but  that  last  is  an  old  complaint.  I  think  you 
take  more  sugar  in  your  coffee  than  you  did, 
— which,  at  the  present  price,  is  not  a  sign  of 
increasing  wisdom." 

Anne  looked  seriously  annoyed.  She  never 
could  understand  the  kind  of  pleasant  rallying 
which  was  constantly  passing  between  Mark 
and  his  wife,  and  always  suspected  them  of 


NELLY.  143 

laughing  at  her.  "  You  are  a  pair  of  babies," 
said  she,  "and  you  will  never  be  any  thing 
else.  I  should  think  you  had  had  trouble 
enough  to  sober  you." 

"  My  dear  sister,  we  have  had  trouble 
enough  to  teach  us  not  to  borrow  any  more, 
but  to  take  and  enjoy  every  innocent  pleasure 
our  kind  Father  sends  us,  even  if  it  be  no 
nior^  than  popping  corn,"  said  Mark,  more 
gravely.  "  I  believe  one  great  secret  of  a 
happy  life  consists  in  finding  pleasure  in  little 
things.  I  am  sorry  you  think  I  am  not  suffi- 
ciently dignified  to  be  praised  by  the  Reviews, 
but  I  hope  you  will  not  be  seriously  afflicted 
by  it,  for  I  am  sadly  afraid  I  shall  never  be  any 
better." 

"  And  there  is  Rosy,  now.  Do  you  expect 
you  are  ever  going  to  teach  her  to  let  your 
things  alone  ?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Veronica.  "  She  is  very 
good  about  meddling  in  the  house.  I  dare 
say  I  may  have  some  little  trouble  at  first; 
but  I  think  she  will  soon  learn." 

"  Yes,  after  she  has  been  whipped  and  sent 
to  bed  a  dozen  times.  I  should  rather  never 
have  a  garden  than  to  pay  such  a  price  for  it." 

"  What    a    lively    imagination    you    have, 


144  THE   TWIN    HOSES. 

Anne!  Rosy  never  was  whipped  in  her  life. 
I  hope  you  don't  report  your  ideas  of  my 
family  government  as  facts.  People  will  think 
me  a  domestic  tyrant." 

Anne  coloured  a  little,  for  she  was  conscious 
of  having  more  than  once  enlarged  upon  her 
sister's  system  as  compared  with  her  own. 
She  had  even  written  to  her  mother-in-law 
such  an  account  of  Veronica's  severity  that 
Mrs.  Campion  was  quite  alarmed,  and  thought 
seriously  of  remonstrating  with  Veronica  upon 
the  subject. 

The  family  in  South  Street  passed  a  pleasant 
summer,  in  spite  of  bricks  and  mortar,  dust 
and  noise,  and  all  the  discomforts  of  building. 
Mark  worked  in  his  garden  early  and  late, 
and,  like  the  fabled  giant  of  the  Greek  story, 
drew  health  and  strength  of  body  and  mind 
from  contact  with  mother  earth.  His  was  a 
mind  exquisitely  alive  to  every  beauty,  whether 
of  nature  or  art.  Veronica's  portulacca-bed, 
opening  its  many-coloured  blossoms  to  the  sun, 
was  a  constant  feast  to  him;  and  every  little 
bird  or  beetle  was  like  a  personal  friend. 
Every  new  flower  was  to  him,  who  lived 
habitually  so  near  to  God,  like  a  new  gift 
from  that  beneficent  Friend  of  whom  and  for 


NELLY.  145 

whom  are  all  things.  The  lilies  spoke  to 
him  their  lesson  of  faith,  and  the  vine  told  of 
Him  who  is  the  true  vine.  Yes,  Mark  was 
very  happy  in  his  garden.  Veronica  could  not 
(juite  reach  to  Mark's  enthusiasm.  Hers  was  a 
mind  of  another  stamp;  but  she  loved  flowers 
and  the  work  they  involved,  and  she  spent 
many  happy  and  healthful  hours  in  weeding 
and  trimming,  in  transplanting  and  layering, 
in  training  Virginia  creepers  and  convolvulus 
in  the  way  they  should  go.  Rosy  toddled 
ajjout  after  mamma,  dug  in  her  own  peculiar 
corner,  exclaimed,  "Pretty !  pretty !"  over  every 
new  blossom,  and  imagined  she  was  making 
herself  useful  in  picking  up  sticks  and  drag- 
ging away  stones  in  her  little  cart. 

Veronica,  whila  working  in  the  garden,  had 
several  times  noticed  a  thin,  odd-looking  child, 
some  six  or  seven  years  old,  peeping  through 
the  open  fence  which  bounded  the  bottom  of 
the  garden.  Happening  one  day  to  be  at  work 
close  by,  she  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
child,  and  asked  her  name. 

"Nelly  Wicks,"  was  the  reply.  Veronica 
recognized  the  name  as  belonging  to  a  poor, 
unfortunate  Scotchman,  a  man  of  some  literary 
pretensions:  and  some  real  talent,  who  had 


146  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

fallen  from  one  grade  of  dissipation  to  another, 
and  finally  died  a  victim  to  brandy.  He  had 
left  a  wife  and  three  children,  the  oldest  of 
whom  was  supporting  himself  respectably  in  a 
printing-office.  Mark  had  procured  the  place 
for  him ;  and  the  lad  had  persisted  in  accepting 
it,  much  to  the  disgust  of  his  father  and 
mother,  who  suffered  from  that  sort  of  gen- 
tility which  considers  all  mechanical  employ- 
ment vulgar.  The  second  child  was  little 
Nelly,  and  there  was  a  younger  child  about 
three  years  old.  Mrs.  Wicks  was  supported 
partly  by  a  small  annuity  paid  her  by  her  hus- 
band's family,  partly  by  fine  work  and  knit- 
ting, which  she  did  very  skilfully  when  she 
could  make  up  her  mind  to  do  it  at  all. 

"And  how  old  are  you,  Nelly?"  asked  Ve- 
ronica, continuing  the  conversation. 

" Six,"  replied  Nelly;  "and  Molly  is  three." 

"Do  you  love  flowers,  Nelly?" 

"Yes,  ma'am, — very  much." 

"Would  you  like  to  come  into  the  garden 
and  see  the  flowers?"  Nelly's  eyes  sparkled. 
"  Well,  you  may  come;  but  you  must  be  care- 
ful not  to  touch  any  thing." 

This  was  the  first  of  Nelly's  visits.  The 
next  day  she  came  again,  and  brought  with 


NELLY.  147 

her  Molly,  a  pretty  but  spoiled  little  imp,  as 
pert  as  Nelly  was  shy  and  timid.  Veronica 
watched  them  closely  without  appearing  to  do 
so,  and  presently  she  saw  Molly  pull  off  a  rose- 
bud. 

"Don't,  Molly!  You  mustn't  touch  the 
lady's  flowers/'  said  Nelly. 

"I  will,  too!"  screamed  Molly.  "I  will 
have  a  flower !  I'll  tell  mother." 

"  Hush,  hush !"  said  Veronica  :  "  that  will 
never  do.  Molly,  if  you  touch  my  flowers  I 
shall  send  you  out  of  the  garden." 

Molly  screamed  louder,  and  Veronica,  taking 
her  in  her  arms,  set  her  over  the  fence  into  her 
own  premises.  Molly  ran  roaring  to  her  mother, 
who  presently  appeared,  calling  Nelly  in  a 
tone  of  voice  which  of  itself  was  enough  to 
drive  the  best  child  in  the  world  into  thoughts 
of  rebellion.  No  sooner  was  the  child  within 
reach  than  she  was  greeted  with  a  box  on  the 
ear  which  nearly  threw  her  down. 

"You  wicked  child!  How  dare  you  push 
your  little  sister  down  and  kick  her?" 

"I  didn't!"  sobbed  Nelly.  "She  wanted 
to  pick  the  lady's  flowers." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  bad  child !— don't !" 
said  Mrs.  Wicks,  for  the  first  time  perceiving 

13 


148  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

that  she  had  an  auditor.  "  Nelly  is  a  very 
naughty  child,  ma'am,"  she  continued,  address- 
ing herself  to  Veronica.  "  She  makes  me  a 
great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  replied  Veronica. 
"  However,  she  certainly  was  not  to  blame  in 
this  case.  She  only  attempted,  by  the  gentlest 
means,  to  prevent  Molly  from  picking  my 
flowers." 

"  She  slapped  me  and  kicked  me !"  cried 
Molly. 

"  She  neither  slapped  nor  kicked  you,"  said 
Veronica.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  naughty 
girl,  since  you  tell  lies  about  your  little  sister." 

"  Molly  is  only  a  baby,"  said  Mrs.  Wicks. 
"  We  do  not  expect  her  to  have  much  sense;  but 
Nelly  is  old  enough  to  know  better,  and  she  is 
a  very  bad  child.  Her  poor,  dear  papa  often 
said  so." 

"He  didn't!"  sobbed  Nelly.  "Papa  was 
good  to  me." 

"You  see  for  yourself,  ma'am.  But  come 
into  the  house  this  minute,  Nelly,  and  do  your 
sewing.  Come,  darling"  (to  Molly) :  "  mamma 
will  give  her  a  piece  of  cake." 

" I  won't !"  roared  Molly.  "I  want  to  go 
in  the  lady's  garden." 


NELLY.  149 

"I  cannot  have  you  in  my  garden/'  said 
Veronica.  "I  never  allow  children  in  ray 
garden  who  meddle  with  what  does  not  be- 
long to  them." 

Molly  went  off  crying,  and  for  a  day  or  two 
Veronica  saw  no  more  of  either  of  the  chil- 
dren. 

After  a  while,  however,  Nelly  was  again  seen 
peeping  through  the  gate,  and  Veronica  in- 
vited her  in.  Presently  Molly  came  also,  de- 
manding admittance. 

"  No,"  said  Veronica :  "  I  never  have  med- 
dling children  about  me;  and  I  will  tell  you 
another  thing,  Molly:  if  you  cry,  I  will  never 
let  you  come  into  the  garden  again,  as  long  as 
you  live." 

Molly's  roar  stopped  as  suddenly  as  a 
stream  of  water  when  the  faucet  is  turned. 
She  remained  looking  wistfully  through  the 
gate,  till  Veronica,  having  finished  her  labours, 
said  to  Nelly, — 

"I  am  going  in  now :  so  you  had  better  run 
home.  Here  are  some  flowers  for  you;  and 
here  is  one  for  you,  Molly." 

Molly  took  the  offered  marigold  and  ran 
off  with  a  beaming  face  to  show  it  to  her 
mother.  She  seemed  to  find  the  new  sensation 


150  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

of  being  good  rather  an  agreeable  one;  for  she 
returned  the  next  day,  and,  being  allowed  to 
come  in,  behaved  as  well  as  possible,  running 
about  after  Veronica  and  Rosy,  and  chatting 
to  them  both  as  good-naturedly  as  possible 
till  Nelly  came  after  her.  Then  she  made 
up  a  face  to  cry;  but  a  warning  look  from  Ve- 
ronica restrained  her,  and  she  went  off  quietly 
enough. 

It  soon  became  an  established  custom  for 
the  children  to  visit  the  garden  every  evening. 
Mrs.  Wicks  seemed  rather  pleased  by  Vero- 
nica's notice  of  them,  and  even  attempted  to 
establish  a  gossiping  sort  of  intimacy, — an 
attempt  which  was  not  in  the  least  encouraged. 
Mark  did  not  at  all  relish  her  familiarities; 
and  one  evening,  as  she  bolted  into  the  sitting- 
room  without  knocking,  he  asked  her,  rather 
significantly, — 

"  Is  the  bell  out  of  order,  Mrs.  Wicks  ?  I 
did  not  hear  you  ring." 

Mrs.  Wicks  took  the  hint,  and  the  next 
time  rang  the  bell.  Becky  went  to  the  door. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Campion  at  home  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wicks. 

"  Yes :  she  is  at  home,  but  she  is  busy," 
said  Becky,  with  whom  Mrs.  Wicks  was  no 


NELLY.  151 

favourite.  "  Did  you  want  any  thing  in  par- 
ticular?" 

"  Xo, — nothing  in  particular,"  replied  Mrs. 
Wicks,  rather  taken  aback ;  "  only  to  sit 
a  while.  Is  my  Nelly  here?" 

"  Yes ;  she's  sitting  on  the  back-steps,  having 
a  quiet,  comfortable  time,"  said  Becky.  "You 
had  better  leave  her  alone,  unless  you  want 
her  particularly ." 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  her  if  she  is  not  in  mis- 
chief. She  is  such  a  bad  child  that  I  am 
never  h'easy  about  her  a  minute." 

"  Then  you  had  better  leave  her  alone ;  for 
she  is  as  good  as  possible  here,"  returned 
Becky;  and,  so  saying,  she  shut  the  door. 

Mrs.  Wicks  had  also  certain  principles 
which  regulated  her  family  government,  one 
of  which  was  a  kind  of  reversal  of  the  old  law 
of  primogeniture.  The  youngest  child  for  the 
time-being  could  do  no  wrong.  He  was  an 
absolute  monarch,  to  whom  every  one  else,  and 
especially  his  elder  brothers  and  sisters,  were 
to  bow  down  in  absolute  submission.  Each 
of  the  children  in  turn  had  enjoyed  this  dan- 
gerous eminence,  had  been  indulged  in  all  sorts 
of  mischief,  and  laughed  at  and  applauded  for 
every  piece  of  impudence.  As  soon  as  another 

13* 


152  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

baby  canie,  the  last  monarch  was  dethroned, 
and  soon  found  himself  snubbed  and  punished 
for  the  very  tricks  which  he  had  been  taught 
to  think  pretty  and  cunning.  Mrs.  Wicks's 
other  grand  principle  was  that  children  were 
always  to  be  found  fault  with,  and  never  on 
any  account  to  be  praised,  especially  before 
strangers.  Every  visitor  she  had,  was  enter- 
tained with  an  account  of  Nelly's  misdeeds, 
especially  if  the  little  girl  were  in  the  room, — till 
many  people  pitied  the  poor  woman  extremely, 
for  having  such  a  graceless  child.  Two  un- 
fortunate consequences  resulted  from  this  sys- 
tem. One  was  that  the  child,  finding  herself 
equally  blamed  whether  she  did  well  or  ill, 
soon  made  up  her  mind  that  there  was  no  use 
in  trying  to  please  her  mother,  and  that  she 
might  just  as  well  take  her  own  way  and 
please  herself.  The  other  consequence  Vero- 
nica herself  remarked  to  Mrs.  Wicks  one  day 
when  that  wise  woman  had  been  more  than 
usually  diffuse  before  a  lady  who  came  to  order 
some  work. 

"  Mrs.  Wicks,"  said  she,  when  Nelly  left  the 
room,  "  do  you  ever  reflect  that  you  are  esta- 
blishing a  bad  reputation  for  that  child,  which 
she  will  never  get  over  ?" 


153 


Mrs.  Wicks  looked  a  little  scared. 

"  You  tell  every  one  what  a  bad  child  she 
is,"  continued  Veronica.  "  Presently  you  will 
lead  people  to  think  she  is  quite  a  monster  of 
iniquity;  and  you  will  find  the  character  will 
stick  to  her  in  such  a  way  as  seriously  to  affect 
her  prospects  in  life.  Suppose  you  were  to  be 
taken  away  suddenly :  who  would  be  willing 
to  give  Nelly  a  home?" 

"Nelly  does  not  care  any  thing  about  being 
scolded,"  said  Mrs.  Wicks,  "  but  it  does  shame 
her  a  little  to  be  found  fault  with  before  com- 
pany." 

"  And  how  long  do  you  think  that  will 
last?  But,  Mrs.  Wicks,  since  blame  does 
Nelly  no  good,  suppose  you  try  a  little  praise. 
That  would  be  a  novelty,  and  would  perhaps 
answer  a  good  purpose." 

But  Mrs.  Wicks  thought  it  would  never  do 
to  praise  children.  They  always  presumed 
upon  it,  and  Nelly  was  sure  to  do  so.  She 
was  a  very  cold-hearted  child,  and  did  not 
love  her  little  sister  in  the  least.  Veronica 
thought  it  no  wonder  that  Nelly  did  not  love 
her  sister,  seeing  how  the  child  was  allowed  to 
interfere  in  every  way  with  her  comfort, — to 
spoil  her  playthings,  tear  her  books,  and  pound 


154  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

her  on  the  least  provocation,  besides  being 
encouraged  to  tell  tales  of  her  on  every  occa- 
sion. There  was,  however,  no  use  in  talk- 
ing to  Mrs.  Wicks,  who  was  wiser  in  her  own 
conceit  than  ten  men  who  could  render  a 
reason :  so  Veronica  contented  herself  with 
affording  Nelly  as  many  happy  hours  as  pos- 
sible within  her  own  premises.  The  child 
needed  very  little  to  make  her  happy.  She 
was  perfectly  contented  with  being  allowed  to 
creep  into  the  parlour  in  the  twilight  after 
Rosy  was  in  bed,  and  sit  at  Veronica's  feet, 
sometimes  fondling  her  hands,  and  now  and 
then  asking  some  odd  question,  which  showed 
how  full  and  running  over  with  thoughts  was 
her  little,  untaught  mind.  Presently  Mark 
began  to  notice  the  shy  little  girl,  to  answer 
her  questions,  and  to  talk  to  her  in  the  peculiarly 
quiet  and  soothing  strain  which  he  so  well  un- 
derstood. Nelly  had  been  considered  rather  a 
dunce  in  school ;  she  had  not  got  on  well  with 
her  books ;  and,  on  inquiry,  Veronica  found  she 
had  never  learned  to  wTrite. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  school  now,  Nelly," 
said  she.  "  If  you  like  to  come  over  every 
morning  at  nine  o'clock,  I  will  give  you  a 
writing- lesson  and  hear  you  spell,  and  we  will 


NELLY.  155 

see  if  we  cannot  get  a  good  start  before  school 
begins  again." 

Nelly  joyfully  assented,  and  made  her  ap- 
pearance punctually  at  the  time  appointed. 
She  acquitted  herself  very  well  for  some  days, 
and  went  home  quite  happy.  The  third  or 
fourth  morning,  Molly  made  her  appearance, 
and  stayed  all  through  the  lesson-hour,  effect- 
ually distracting  Nelly's  attention.  Veronica 
took  no  notice  the  first  day ;  but  the  next  morn- 
ing, finding  the  same  thing  repeated,  she  said 
to  Nelly,— 

"  Nelly,  you  must  not  bring  Molly  with 
you  when  you  come  to  say  your  lesson." 

"  Mother  said  I  shouldn't  come  unless  Molly 
did,  because  Molly  cried,"  said  the  child,  hang- 
ing her  head. 

"  I  cannot  help  that,"  said  Veronica.  "You 
must  tell  your  mother  that  I  cannot  have 
Molly  in  the  morning.  She  is  quite  too  trou- 
blesome, and  hinders  you  from  doing  any  thing 
properly." 

"  I'll  tell  her  what  you  say,"  replied  Nelly ; 
"but  I  'most  know  she  won't  let  me  come 
without  Molly.  I  have  finished  my  copy,  Mrs. 
Campion." 

"  That  is  very  neatly  done,  Nelly.     It  is  the 


156  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

best  we  have  seen  yet.  You  must  have  taken 
great  pains." 

Nelly's  pale  face  flushed  and  brightened,  as 
she  answered,  "  I  knew  you  would  say  it  was 
well  done,  because  it  was  well  done." 

"Poor  little  young  one!"  said  Becky,  to 
whom  Veronica  repeated  Nelly's  remark. 
"  She  knows  what  justice  is  when  she  gets  it, 
anyhow.  But  what  is  the  use  of  her  trying 
to  do  any  thing  at  home  ?  That  woman  finds 
fault  with  her  whether  she  does  right  or  wrong, 
and  the  child  has  no  motive  to  be  good.  She 
does  well  enough  over  here,  and  minds  with 
the  first  word ;  but  she  does  misbehave  at  homo, 
— and  no  wonder." 

"We  must  try  by  degrees  to  give  her  a 
higher  motive  than  any  human  praise,  even 
her  mother's,"  said  Veronica.  "I  remember 
an  anecdote  that  Daisy  Brush  told  me,  which 
made  a  strong  impression  on  me.  Daisy  was 
talking  to  Chloe,  the  old  negro  woman  who 
took  care  of  her,  and  who  seems  to  have  been 
about  her  only  friend,  and  lamenting  the  im- 
possibility of  pleasing  Miss  Brush,  whatever 
she  did. 

"'Honey,'  said  Chloe,  'you  can't  please  her. 
No  one  ever  could  please  Miss  Addy, — no,  not 


NELLY.  157 

an  angel  from  heaven ;  and  the  heavenlier  he 
was,  the  worse  she  would  treat  him.  When  I 
first  came  here,  I  used  to  wear  my  heart  out 
trying  to  suit  her;  and  the  more  I  tried,  the 
more  she  aggravated  me,  till  I  used  to  think 
she  would  drive  me  out  of  my  mind.  Finally, 
one  day,  I  thought  to  myself,  There's  no  use 
in  trying  to  please  Miss  Addy,  'cause  she  won't 
be  pleased,  nohow;  but  there's  One  I  can 
please,  'cause  He  sees  my  heart  and  He  knows 
what  I  try  to  do.  So  I  left  off  trying  to  please 
Miss  Addy,  and  went  to  work  with  all  my 
might  to  please  God  and  do  what  I  thought 
he'd  like.' 

" '  And  did  that  do  her  any  good  ?'  asked 
Daisy. 

"  '  No,  honey ;  I  can't  say  it  did ;  but  it 
did  me  a  sight  of  good,  and  I've  felt  better 
ever  since.' " 

"  Poor  old  soul !"  said  Becky.  "  I  wonder 
what  I  should*  do  if  I  were  in  her  place?  I 
wonder  which  would  have  the  worst  time, — 
me  or  my  mistress  ?" 


158 


THE   TWIN   ROSES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DEATH. 

/E  must  now  pass  hastily  over  three 
or  four  years  in  the  life  of  our 
friends  in  South  Street  and  on  the 
Avenue,  and  proceed  to  a  period 
of  more  importance. 

Mark's  book  passed  through  more 
editions,  and  the  second  part  was  eagerly 
looked  for  and  heartily  welcomed.  The 
increase  of  fame  brought  with  it  an  equally 
agreeable  increase  of  fortune;  and,  Mark's  time 
being  fully  taken  up  with  such  work  as  he  liked 
best,  he  gave  up  much  of  the  drudgery  which 
had  heretofore  occupied  him,  and  spent  a  great 
deal  of  his  time  at  home. 

The  new  library  had  already  lost  its  look  of 
newness,  and  the  shelves  which  looked  so  bare 
and  empty  when  first  put  up  were  crowded 
three-deep  with  volumes  of  all  sorts  and  sizes. 
The  dwarf  pear-trees  in  the  new  garden  had 


DEATH.  159 

come  into  fine  bearing;  while  the  raspberry  and 
strawberry  plantations  reproved  Anne's  want 
of  faith  by  full  crops  of  berries. 

Rosy  had  grown,  with  every  thing  else.  She 
was  now  shooting  up  into  a  tall  girl,  getting 
her  second  teeth,  and  losing  much  of  her  re- 
markable infantine  beauty.  Despite  Anne's 
predictions, — despite  Veronica's  shocking  pre- 
sumption in  teaching  the  child  to  read  at  four 
years  old,  and  to  write  at  five, — Rosy  was  neither 
rickety  nor  hump-backed,  neither  idiotic  nor 
epileptic.  On  the  contrary,  her  health,  natu- 
rally delicate,  had  constantly  improved  under 
her  mother's  careful  nursing,  till  she  was  now 
as  healthy  and  sturdy  as  any  child  in  the  city. 
Growing  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  books,  she  of 
course  "took  to  them,"  as  Becky  said,  from 
her  earliest  years.  She  was  not  more  than 
three  years  old  when  she  announced  her  inten- 
tion to  make  books  like  papa ;  and,  as  she  could 
not  use  a  pen,  she  was  constantly  begging  her 
mother  or  Becky  to  write  down  her  stories  for 
her.  All  her  tales  were  of  course  highly  moral, 
and  inflicted  terrific  punishment  upon  offenders, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  wicked  boy  who  would 
throw  stones  at  the  chickens,  and  was  after- 
wards carried  off  and  devoured  by  ostriches, — 

14 


160  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

they  being  the  biggest  birds  with  which  Rosy 
was  acquainted. 

After  she  learned  to  read,  books  were  a 
never-failing  source  of  enjoyment  to  her. 
Becky  had  early  made  her  acquainted  with 
some  of  her  own  favourites  in  prose  and  verse; 
and  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  "The  Minstrel/' 
"The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  "  Bishop  He- 
ber's  Journals,"  afforded  Rosy  new  delight 
when  she  came  to  study  them  for  herself.  Of 
course,  much  was  not  understood ;  but  Vero- 
nica had  an  idea  that  it  did  not  hurt  children 
to  read  books  beyond  their  comprehension. 
Rosy's  juvenile  library  was  a  very  large  one, 
— thanks  to  the  liberality  of  Mr.  Clarendon, 
Mark's  partner,  who  never  allowed  her  to  visit 
the  store  without  giving  her  the  choice  of  a 
large  assortment  of  books ;  and  her  favourites 
were  read  and  re-read  until  fairly  worn  out. 

Veronica  had  taught  her  to  take  good  care 
of  her  books;  and  the  few  torn  pages  and  bat- 
tered covers  were  mostly  due  to  Kitty,  whose 
lawlessness  was  not  always  to  be  restrained 
even  by  Aunt  Veronica. 

Rosy  had  never  been  to  school,  as  her  mother 
had  plenty  of  time  to  bestow  upon  her  at  home. 
She  had  never  been  driven,  and  she  had  en- 


DEATH.  161 

» 

joyed  a  great  deal  of  out-of-door  exercise ;  yet 
at  eight  years  old  she  could  read  as  well  as 
any  one,  write  a  tolerable  hand,  spell  most 
common  words  correctly  (a  somewhat  rare  ac- 
complishment in  these  days,  by  the  way),  and 
she  had  begun  to  learn  lessons  in  mental 
arithmetic  and  grammar.  The  latter  study, 
usually  so  dry  and  wearisome  to  children,  Ve- 
ronica taught  her  by  word  of  mouth ;  and  Rosy 
could  point  out  the  nouns,  verbs,  and  adjectives 
in  a  sentence,  could  tell  whether  the  verbs  were 
regular  or  irregular,  and  what  they  governed, 
long  before  she  had  even  looked  into  a  gram- 
mar. Her  lesson-times  were  short,  rarely  ex- 
ceeding fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at  one  time; 
but  Veronica  tolerated  no  trifling,  and  insisted 
upon  Rosy's  bestowing  her  full  powers  of  mind 
on  the  subject  for  the  time-being.  It  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  all  these  lessons  were  gotten 
over  without  some  trouble  on  both  sides. 
Rosy  was  sometimes  idle  and  sometimes  care- 
less, and  now  and  then  required  a  certain 
amount  of  coercion,  as  most  children  do;  but, 
on  the  whole,  the  tasks  were  a  source  of  enjoy- 
ment to  both  pupil  and  teacher. 

The  little  girl's  moral  and  religious  educa- 
tion advanced  at  the  same  time  with  that  of 
L 


162  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

her  mind.  As  we  have  seen,  she  early  learned 
to  obey  with  a  word  or  look.  She  had  been 
taught,  as  soon  as  she  could  walk,  to  exert 
her  small  strength  for  the  benefit  of  others, 
and  to  find  pleasure  in  so  doing.  Her  first 
patch-work  resulted  in  a  kettle-holder  for  Miss 
Brown,  and  a  chair-cushion  for  Aunt  Phoebe 
Ray,  an  old  coloured  woman  who  was  a  fre- 
quent and  welcome  visitor  in  Becky's  kitchen. 
Her  pennies  were  hoarded  to  buy  Christmas- 
presents  for  everybody;  and  she  found  much 
more  pleasure  in  laying  them  out  in  this  way 
than  she  would  have  done  in  spending  them 
selfishly  upon  herself.  She  was  taught  to  tell 
the  truth  on  the  smallest  occasion,  to  be  polite 
and  kind  to  every  one,  whether  rich  or  poor,  to 
study  the  comfort  of  those  about  her,  and  to 
deny  herself  for  their  sakes. 

As  soon  as  Rosy  was  old  enough  to  speak, — 
long  before  she  could  speak  plainly, —  Veronica 
taught  her  to  say  her  prayers,  and  to  know  to 
whom  she  was  speaking.  Mark  was  never  so 
busy  that  he  did  not  spare  half  an  hour  before 
Rosy's  bedtime,  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and 
talk  to  her,  in  gentle,  reverent  tones,  of  her 
Father  in  heaven,  who  gave  her  all  that  she 
loved,  of  the  dear  Saviour,  the  Son  of  God, 


DEATH.  163 

who  came  down  to  earth  and  died  and  rose 
again  for  her  salvation ;  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to 
whom  she  must  look  for  help  against  her  sins, 
and  comfort  in  her  sorrows.  All  the  great 
realities  of  our  holy  religion  were  so  early  im- 
pressed on  Rosy's  memory  that  she  could  not 
recollect  when  she  had  not  known  something 
of  them  ;  and  Mark's  earnest,  living  spirit  of 
devotion  made  his  instructions  realities.  This 
twilight  hour  was  very  precious  to  Rosy  and 
to  Rosy's  papa,  and  served  to  draw  closer  the 
bond  between  them.  If  the  little  one  had 
done  any  thing  wrong  during  the  day,  it  was 
confessed  at  this  time,  with  tears  and  promises 
of  amendment ;  if  she  had  met  with  any  trou- 
ble, it  was  then  poured  into  papa's  ready  ear, 
sure  to  meet  with  sympathy  and  comfort.  It 
was  not  always  by  any  means  convenient  for 
Mark  to  spare  this  half-hour;  but  he  would 
have  sacrificed  a  great  deal,  rather  than  have 
given  up  his  particular  share  in  his  little 
daughter's  education. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  with  all  this,  that 
Rosy  was  altogether  a  faultless  child.  She 
was  sometimes  idle  and  sometimes  careless ;  she 
had  rather  a  quick  temper,  and  she  was  prone 
somewhat  to  dwell  upon  and  brood  over  small 


164  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

offences  and  troubles.  Nevertheless,  she  was 
a  very  good  little  girl,  and  her  early-acquired 
habits  of  amusing  herself  independently  and 
letting  other  people's  things  alone  made  her 
an  unusually  pleasant  child  to  live  with. 

Anne's  training,  like  Veronica's,  had  pro- 
duced its  legitimate  results,  and  Kitty  at  eight 
years  old  was  pronounced,  by  all  her  acquaint- 
ances, the  most  thoroughly  spoiled  child  in 
the  city.  A  little  torment,  an  intolerable 
nuisance,  she  was  called  by  the  servants  and 
visitors;  and  such  she  undoubtedly  was.  Anne 
had  always  made  herself  a  slave  to  Kitty,  at- 
tending assiduously  to  all  her  motions,  grati- 
fying her  every  whim,  no  matter  at  what  in- 
convenience to  herself,  and  allowing  the  child 
to  find  fault  with  and  criticize  her  to  her 
heart's  content.  Everybody  and  every  thing 
in  the  house  was  made  to  give  way  to  Kitty. 
Whatever  she  wanted,  that  she  had,  if  it  was 
to  be  found ;  if  not,  some  substitute  must  be 
provided.  If  she  flew  into  a  passion,  she  was 
to  be  coaxed  into  good  humour  again ;  if  she 
cried,  she  was  to  be  pacified ;  if  she  conde- 
scended to  learn  at  all,  she  was  to  be  praised 
and  petted  as  though  she  had  performed  some- 
thing marvellous ;  if  she  refused  to  learn,  she 


DEATH.  165 

was  not  to  be  driven,  for  fear  she  should  be 
led  to  dislike  study,  or  lest  her  health  should 
be  injured  by  over-application. 

Anne  hoped  by  all  this  indulgence  to  win 
the  child's  love,  and,  as  she  said,  influence  her 
by  the  means  of  her  affections ;  but  she  made 
a  singular  mistake.  Kitty  had  very  little  re- 
gard for  her  mother,  and  no  respect  whatever. 
Tha  following  is  a  specimen  of  scenes  which 
were  constantly  occurring  between  the  mother 
and  daughter.  Kitty  had  been  playing  with 
her  blocks  and  dishes,  and  was  going  out  of 
the  room,  leaving  them  strewed  all  over  the 
carpet. 

"  Come,  Kitty ;  put  your  blocks  away,  like  a 
good  girl." 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"Oh,  yes;  put  them  away  nicely.  Kitty 
will  be  a  good,  kind  girl,  and  put  the  things 
away  for  mamma:  won't  she?" 

"  I  sha'n't.     I  want  to  go  in  the  garden." 

"  Oh,  I  see:  Kitty  don't  love  mamma.    Poor 
mamma!     Come,  put   away   the   things,  and 
mamma  will  read  her  a  pretty  story." 
0    "  I  don't  want  a  story.     I  want  to  go  in  the 
garden." 

"  Well,  I  will  show  you  papa's  great  book 


166  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

of  animals.  Doesn't  Kitty  want  to  see  the 
pretty  squirrels  and  bears  ?" 

If  the  bribe  was  sufficient,  Kitty  would 
sometimes  condescend  to  do  as  she  was  en- 
treated ;  but  more  generally  she  went  on  her  own 
way,  and  the  blocks  were  put  up  by  some  one 
eke.  Kitty  was  allowed  to  eat  what  she  liked, 
to  get  up  and  go  to  bed  when  she  liked,  to  go 
out  or  not  when  she  pleased.  She  was  never 
taught  to  deny  herself  any  gratification  of  her 
appetite,  lest  she  should  attach  too  much  im- 
portance to  eating  and  drinking,  or  to  suppress 
any  speech,  however  impertinent  or  foolish, 
lest  she  should  learn  to  be  artful.  She  was 
never  taught  to  have  any  care  of  her  clothes 
and  playthings;  and,  indeed,  the  principal  use 
she  made  of  her  toys  was  to  break  them. 

At  eight  years  old,  Kitty  was  thoughtless, 
exacting,  self-indulgent,  and  so  thoroughly 
blasee  (I  would  use  an  English  word  if  I  could 
find  one  which  expressed  my  meaning  so  ex- 
actly) to  all  sorts  of  indulgences  and  amuse- 
ments, that  no  one  of  them  could  afford  her 
pleasure  for  more  than  a  few  minutes  at  a  time. 
She  respected  but  three  people  in  the  world, — 
her  father,  and  her  uncle  and  aunt,  all  of  whom 
she  found  herself  obliged  to  defer  to.  She 


DEATH.  167 

loved  her  father  and  .Rosy  dearly,  and  scarcely 
any  one  else.  Her  health  was  injured  by  her 
irregular  hours  and  habits  of  eating,  and, 
like  Rosy,  she  was  fast  losing  her  childish 
beauty. 

For  a  long  time  Anne  could  see  nothing 
but  perfection  in  Kitty;  but  during  the  last 
year  or  two  her  eyes  had  been  a  little  opened. 
She  could  not  help  observing  the  difference  be- 
tween the  two  girls  whenever  they  were  brought 
together,  and  perceiving  that  the  advantage  was 
not  upon  Kitty's  side.  At  first  this  convic- 
tion showed  itself  in  pettishness  towards  Rosy 
and  her  mother,  and  in  a  strong  disposition 
to  magnify  any  little  thing  which  the  child  said 
or  did  amiss;  but  by  degrees  the  pettishness 
began  to  turn  upon  Kitty  herself.  Then  came 
an  attempt  to  govern  the  child, — to  break  her 
spirit,  as  Anne  phrased  it.  But  Kitty's  spirit, 
not  having  been  bent  at  the  right  time,  was 
hard  to  break  now.  Her  will,  like  Rosy's, 
was  naturally  strong;  and,  unlike  Rosy's,  it  had 
never  been  taught  to  give  way.  Kitty  came 
off  conqueror  in  the  struggle  by  dint  of  sheer 
screaming  and  kicking;  and, after  a  prolonged 
contest,  Anne  was  fain  to  purchase  peace  and 
quietness  by  a  double  share  of  indulgence. 


168  THE  TWIN   EOSES. 

But  Anne's  pride  was  now  alarmed.  It 
could  not  be  denied  that  Veronica's  system 
had  succeeded  in  making  Rosy  a  much  more 
agreeable  child  than  Kitty, — that  she  was  more 
forward,  better-mannered,  healthier,  and,  by 
consequence,  prettier.  She  made  up  her  mind 
that  it  was  time  to  take  Kitty  seriously  in 
hand  and  break  her  in. 

She  did  not  find  the  task  an  easy  one ;  nor 
was  she  particularly  well  qualified  to  perform 
it,  never  having  been  very  well  broken  in  her- 
self. Nevertheless  did-  she  persevere  in  her 
intention.  The  nursery  now  became  the  daily 
scene  of  battles  loud  and  long  between  Kitty 
and  her  mother, — the  one  commanding,  the 
other  crying  and  resisting,  till  either  Anne 
grew  tired  and  abandoned  the  contest,  or 
Kitty,  subdued  by  sheer  physical  force  of 
shaking  and  whipping,  did  as  she  was  told,  to 
be  pitied,  comforted,  and  secretly  indulged  by 
Jane,  as  soon  as  her  mother  was  out  of  sight, 
and  usually  to  rebel  again  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

Anne  was  not  very  judicious,  and  was  just 
as  likely  to  provoke  a  battle  about  some  per- 
fectly indifferent  matter  as  about  a  fault  of 
consequence.  Then  Kitty's  offended  sense  of 


DEATH.  109 

justice  gave  double  force  to  her  resistance,  and 
she  was  often  perfectly  frantic  with  rage,  being 
on  one  occasion  only  withheld  by  force  from 
throwing  herself  out  of  the  window. 

Treated  in  this  way,  Kitty  grew  sullen,  sly, 
and  morose,  and  lost  the  few  engaging  qualities 
she  possessed.  Anne  began  to  find  her  trouble- 
some, tiresome,  a  little  plague,  an  ungrateful 
child,  and  to  talk  seriously  of  sending  her  to 
boarding-school. 

From  her  father,  Kitty  was  sure  of  receiving 
even-handed  justice;  but,  unfortunately  for  her, 
Mr.  Campion  was  from  home  a  great  part  of 
the  time.  He  had  been  called  to  the  pre- 
sidency of  a  railroad  company  whose  affairs 
were  sadly  entangled,  and  which  he  was  ex- 
pected to  put  in  order;  for  he  was  a  man  in 
whose  integrity  and  business  capacity  every  one 
placed  the  utmost  confidence;  and  he  found  his 
hands  so  full  that  he  had  very  little  time  to 
spend  at  home. 

Kitty  was  always  good  and  happy  with  her 
father,  whose  will  she  had  early  learned  was 
law.  All  was  sunshine  when  he  appeared,  and 
he  had,  consequently,  very  little  notion  of  how 
matters  were  going  between  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter. Whenever  Kitty  could  obtain  permission 
p 


170  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

to  spend  the  day  with  her  aunt,  she  was  satis- 
fied; since  Veronica,  though  she  never  unduly 
indulged  her,  or  allowed  her  to  tyrannize  over 
Rosy,  was  always  just  and  kind;  but  Anne's 
jealousy  of  her  sister-in-law  had  not  decreased 
with  years,  and  was  called  into  active  exercise 
by  Kitty's  affection  for  her:  so  that  these 
visits  were  not  so  frequent  as  formerly.  Such 
was  the  state  of  things  at  the  time  we  resume 
the  thread  of  our  tale. 

Dinner  was  over  in  South  Street.  Mark 
had  assumed  his  favourite  chair  and  his  dress- 
ing-gown ;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  throw  off 
his  cares  as  usual,  but  looked  thoughtful  and 
anxious.  Rosy,  now  promoted  to  the  dignity 
of  sitting  up  till  eight  o'clock,  was  busy  in  a 
corner  with  Nelly  Wicks,  setting  out  the  doll's 
table  for  a  grand  dinner-party;  for  she  was 
still  very  young  in  her  enjoyments,  and  loved 
her  dolls  as  well  as  ever.  Veronica's  fingers 
were  busy  with  her  knitting,  and  her  eyes  were 
fixed  thoughtfully  on  the  fire. 

"  Veronica,"  said  Mark,  after  an  interval  of 
silence,  "  have  you  seen  John  lately  ?" 

"Not  very  lately, —  no!"  replied  Veronica, 
rousing  herself  from  her  abstraction.  "  Now 
I  think  of  it,  I  have  seen  him  only  once  in 


DEATH.  171 

several  weeks,  and  then  only  for  a  few  minutes. 
Pie  is  away  a  great  deal,  you  know." 

"  Then  you  have  not  seen  him  since  he  came 
home  this  last  time  ?" 

"No.     Why?" 

"  I  think  he's  looking  very  unwell,"  said 
Mark,  gravely.  "  I  fear  lie  is  sadly  overwork- 
ing himself  with  this  railroad  business." 

"  T  suppose  it  is  very  perplexing,"  returned 
Veronica.  "  I  noticed  no  change  in  him  the 
last  time  I  met  him,  except  that  he  seemed 
rather  more  abstracted  than  usual." 

"  I  went  into  the  office  to  see  him  this  after- 
noon, and  really  I  was  startled,"  said  Mark. 
"  He  hardly  seemed  to  know  me  till  I  spoke 
to  him,  and  his  hand  shook  like  an  old  man's. 
I  wish  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  lay  down 
his  business  cares  for  a  time  and  rest.  He  told 
me  this  afternoon  that  his  head  often  felt 
strangely,  and  that  he  had  been  trying  to  see 
the  doctor,  but  had  not  found  time." 

Mark  had  hardly  finished  speaking,  when 
some  one  hastily  opened  the  side  door,  and 
Becky  was  heard  to  exclaim,  in  a  tone  of  great 
surprise, — 

"  Why,  Kitty,  child,  what  brings  you  here  at 
this  time  of  night?" 

15 


172  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

"What  can  be  the  matter?"  asked  Veronica, 
turning  pale,  and  rising  to  open  the  door;  but, 
before  she  reached  it,  Kitty  rushed  in,  much 
excited. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Mark,  do  come  to  our  house 
directly !  papa  is  very  sick,  and  mamma  is  not  at 
home!"  And,  overcome  with  grief,  she  burst 
into  hysterical  sobs. 

While  Mark  hastily  assumed  his  coat  and 
boots,  Veronica  tried  to  soothe  the  child,  and 
to  obtain  from  her  some  account  of  her  father's 
illness. 

"Mamma  went  away  to  the  concert,  and 
papa  said  he  could  not  go,  because  his  head 
ached,  and  he  wanted  to  be  quiet;  and  he  was 
leaning  back  in  his  great  chair,  and  when  I 
spoke  to  him  he  did  not  answer.  And  his 
face  looks  dreadful,  and  he  does  not  know  any 
thing  at  all !" 

"  Have  you  sent  for  the  doctor  ?" 

"Yes:  Charles  went  for  him;  but  he  did 
not  come  back,  and  so  I  came  after  you." 

"Can  you  come,  Veronica ?"  asked  Mark. 
She  was  ready  in  a  moment.  She  would  have 
had  Kitty  remain  with  Rosy ;  but  the  child  was 
not  willing  to  stay  away  from  her  father,  and 
Veronica  did  not  urge  the  point.  They  found 


DEATH.  173 

the  doctor  at  the  house ;  but  there  was  nothing 
to  be  done.  The  first  attack  had  been  the 
fatal  blow,  and  Anne  arrived  at  home  only  in 
time  to  see  her  husband  breathe  his  last. 

Kitty  was  like  a  mad  creature.  She  had 
never  been  taught  to  put  any  restraint  upon 
herself,  and  she  loved  her  father  better  than 
any  thing  else  in  the  world.  Veronica  tried 
to  quiet  her  by  telling  her  how  much  she  would 
increase  her  mother's  grief;  but  Kitty  had 
never  been  taught  to  consider  other  people's 
feelings,  and  the  argument  had  nO  weight  with 
her.  She  clung  to  her  father's  body,  struck 
furiously  at  those  who  approached  her,  and  was 
finally  carried  away  by  main  force  and  put  to 
bed.  At  last,  exhausted  by  the  violence  of  her 
emotions,  she  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

Anne's  grief  was  almost  as  violent  as  Kitty's, 
and,  as  usual,  she  sought  relief  in  thinking  some 
one  was  to  blame.  She  could  not  believe  but 
that  something  might  have  been  done,  and  she 
alternately  reproached  Mark,  the  doctor,  her- 
self for  being  absent,  and  John  for  not  having 
told  her  how  ill  he  was.  Veronica  listened 
and  soothed,  with  unvarying  gentleness  and 
patience,  till  at  last  Anne  seemed  struck  with 
some  sense  of  her  own  ungraciousness. 


174  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

"  It  is  too  bad  for  me  to  keep  yon  up,  Vero- 
nica,. I  know,  of  course,  that  you  and  Mark 
did  all  that  you  could ;  but  it  does  seem  so 
hard  that  he  should  be  taken  so  suddenly  with- 
out any  time  for  preparation  or  any  thing. 
And  what  will  people  think  of  me? — being 
away  at  a  concert  when  my  husband  was 
dying !" 

"Every  one  will  know  how  sudden  the  at- 
tack was,"  said  Veronica,  soothingly;  "and  as 
for  preparation,  Anne,  I  hope  and  trust  that 
John's  was  not  put  off  till  a  dying  hour." 

"  No :  I  didn't  mean  that,"  sobbed  Anne. 
"He  was  always  good  and  religious, — always; 
but,  then,  to  think  of  his  leaving  his  affairs 
all  unsettled,  and  I  don't  know  any  thing  about 
business, — and  I  shall  be  left  so  lonely !" 

"  There  is  Kitty,  you  know,"  said  Veronica. 
"Poor  child,  she  has  been  almost  beside  her- 
self!" • 

"Yes;  she  loved  him  dearly.  She  would 
always  mind  him  when  she  did  not  care  for 
any  one  else.  Where  is  she?  I  want  her 
with  me." 

"  She  is  asleep,"  replied  Veronica.  "  I  hardly 
think  it  will  be  safe  to  wake  her." 

But  Anne,  like  Kitty,  had  never  learned  to 


DEATH.  175 

control  herself.  She  insisted  upon  going  to 
see  the  child,  awaked  her  by  her  sobs,  and 
then,  as  Veronica  had  foreseen,  there  was  a 
repetition  of  the  distressing  scene.  She  was  at 
last  obliged  to  call  Mark,  who,  exerting  the 
authority  which  he  well  knew  how  to  assume, 
sent  Anne  to  bed  in  one  room  and  Kitty  in 
another,  holding  the  little  girl  in  her  arms  till 
she  fell  asleep.  When  she  awoke,  the  violence 
of  her  grief  seemed  to  have  passed  off ;  but  it 
was  replaced  by  a  settled  melancholy,  painful 
to  witness  in  so  young  a  child.  She  wept  no 
more,  but  moped  silently  about  the  house,  un- 
able to  amuse  or  employ  herself,  and  keeping  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  the  way  of  her  mother, 
whose  bursts  of  weeping  seemed  to  irritate  her 
beyond  endurance.  She  rejected,  ungraciously 
enough,  her  aunt's  offer  to  take  her  home  or  to 
bring  Rosy  to  keep  her  company,  and  seemed 
to  find  her  only  consolation  in  sitting  in  her 
father's  room  and  turning  over  and  arranging 
his  little  pieces  of  personal  property, — the  seals 
and  pens  upon  his  desk,  and  the  eye-glass, 
cigar-case,  and  smoking-apparatus,  which  he 
had  been  used  to  keep  on  a  little  table  by  his 
arm-chair. 

"There  is  a  wonderful  intensity  of  character 
15* 


176  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

in  that  little  thing,"  said  Mark  to  Veronica, 
one  day.  "It  seems  as  if  almost  any  thing 
might  be  made  of  her,  if  one  only  knew  where 
to  begin." 

"  She  has  great  force  of  character,"  replied 
Veronica;  "and  therein  lies  my  one  hope  for 
her.  If  she  were  a  fool,  I  should  say  she  was 
thoroughly  spoiled ;  but  I  hope  she  may  yet 
have  sense  enough  to  correct  her  own  errors. 
The  worst  thing  about  her  is  the  selfishness  in 
which  she  has  been  systematically  trained.  She 
cares  for  nothing  and  nobody  but  herself,  now 
that  her  father  is  gone.  I  fear  she  has  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  before  her,  poor  child;  for,  be- 
tween ourselves,  I  doubt  Anne's  having  much 
patience  with  her  faults,  now  they  have  become 
troublesome,  even  though  they  are  in  a  great 
measure  the  work  of  her  own  hands." 

"  Kitty  is  losing  her  beauty,  too,"  observed 
Mark.  "  How  very  thin  and  dark  she  has 
grown !" 

"  She  will  outgrow  that,"  replied  Veronica. 
"  I  think  she  will  turn  out  a  very  handsome 
woman." 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"Sitting  in  John's  room,  keeping  watch  over 
his  property.  She  will  not  allow  the  house- 


DEATH.  177 

maid  to  touch  any  thing,  but  has  fairly  tired 
herself  out  in  attempting  to  sweep  and  dust 
the  room  herself.  I  told  them  to  let  her  have 
her  own  way;  for  I  thought  exercise  the  best 
thing  for  her.  Poor  child !  she  may  well  mourn, 
for  she  has  lost  her  best  friend,  one  on  whom 
she  might  have  relied  through  all  changes. 
John's  faithfulness  was  one  of  his  strong  points. 
He  was  as  firm  as  a  rock." 


178  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FARTHER   CHANGES. 

JOHN'S  affairs  turned  out  to  be  in 
perfect  order.  His  property  was 
much  larger  than  any  one  sup- 
posed,  and  all  was  well  and  pro- 
fitably invested.  His  will,  dated  very 
soon  after  his  marriage,  left  twcnty- 
five  thousand  dollars  to  his  mother,  the 
same  sum  to  Mark,  a  thousand  dollars 
and  a  small  house  in  the  suburbs  to  "  my  old 
and  respected  friend  Miss  Rebecca  Owen," 
various  large  legacies  to  the  different  charitable 
institutions  in  the  city,  and  the  remainder, 
amounting  to  more  than  ninety  thousand  dol- 
lars,  to  his  wife.  There  was  a  codicil,  dated 
nearly  seven  years  back,  by  which  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  was  left  to  Kitty  under  Mr. 
Clarendon's  guardianship ;  but  it  was  not 
signed. 

"He  must  have  written  it  immediately  after 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  179 

the  conversation  we  had  upon  the  subject," 
said  Mark.  "  I  am  very  sorry  it  was  not 
signed." 

"Do  you  think  it  a  good  plan  to  make 
children  independent  of  their  parents?"  asked 
Mr.  Clarendon,  who  was  one  of  the  executors. 

"  Not  usually ;  but  the  present  case  is  rather 
a  peculiar  one." 

M;\  Clarendon  looked  over  his  glasses,  and 
nodded  two  or  three  times  significantly.  "  You 
mean  that  Mrs.  Campion  is  a  young  and 
pretty  woman,  and,  the  property  being  left 
altogether  in  her  own  power,  she  is  likely 

enough  to "  Another  significant  nod  closed 

the  sentence. 

Mark  nodded  in  return.  "There  is  one 
thing  about  it,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  now  be 
able  to  make  a  home  for  Kitty,  if  any  thing 
should  occur  to  render  it  necessary." 

"  Well,  Mark,  I  must  say  that's  very  un- 
selfish in  you.  Kitty  is  a  thoroughly  spoiled 
little  monkey.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  her 
match.  I  should  not  like  to  be  the  one  to 
undertake  her." 

"  My  wife  has  a  great  knack  at  managing 
children,"  said  Mark;  "and  Kitty  has  so  much 
sense  and  force  at  the  bottom  of  all  her  faults, 


180  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

that  I  cannot  think  hers  a  hopeless  case.    How- 
ever, there  is  no  use  in  borrowing  trouble." 

Anne  was  considerably  disappointed  in  her 
husband's  will.  She  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  every  thing  would  be  left  to  her,  and, 
though  she  was  certainly  very  well  provided 
for,  having  an  income  of  over  six  thousand  a 
year,  she  felt  herself  very  much  aggrieved  that 
so  large  a  share  of  her  husband's  property 
should  have  been  given  to  Mrs.  Campion  and 
Mark. 

"  I  can't  understand  it  at  all,"  she  said  to 
Mr.  Clarendon.  "John  never  had  any  opinion 
of  Mark  as  a  business  man;  and  it  passes  my 
comprehension  how  he  could  have  been  willing 
to  put  such  a  large  sum  of  money  into  his 
hands." 

"  Mark  is  not  exactly  a  money-making  man, 
though  he  has  made  a  very  pretty  sum  out  of 
that  book  of  his,"  observed  Mr.  Clarendon; 
"  but,  as  far  as  punctuality  and  exactness  go, 
he  is  as  good  a  business  man  as  I  know  any- 
where. I  never  yet  depended  upon  him  for 
any  thing  and  found  myself  disappointed." 

"  Of  course  you  are  bound  to  stand  up  for 
him,  since  you  are  his  partner,"  retorted  Anne. 
"  No  doubt  he  will  show  his  business  capacity 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  181 

by  putting  all  his  money  into  the  firm  at  once. 
But  I  suppose  there  is  no  help  for  it.  The 
will  is  legal,  and  all  that?" 

"Perfectly  so,"  replied  Mr.  Clarendon, 
calmly.  "Mr.  Campion  was  not  the  man  to 
do  such  business  carelessly.  I  cannot  imagine 
how  he  came  to  leave  the  addition  to  his  will 
unsigned." 

"  I  am  very  glad  he  did,"  said  Anne. 
"  Kitty  is  quite  trouble  enough  as  it  is,  without 
her  being  left  independent  of  me.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  was  Mark's  doing,  and  that  he  ex- 
pected to  be  the  child's  guardian.  I  remember 
hearing  him  talking  to  John  about  some  such 
matter,  the  night  John  made  such  a  fuss  about 
Kitty's  dress.  I  am  heartily  glad  he  is  dis- 
appointed in  his  calculation.  Well,  I  must 
make  up  my  mind  to  retrench, — to  give  up 
my  carriage  and  live  in  a  little  house  in  a 
back  street  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  It  is  very 
hard,  after  having  been  always  led  to  expect 
something  so  different ;  but  I  suppose  I  must 
submit." 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  your  making  any 
such  sacrifices  at  present,"  replied  Mr.  Claren- 
don. "You  are  borrowing  trouble  at  very 
large  interest,  my  dear  madam." 


182  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  I  think  I  shall  sell  this  house,  at  any  rate," 
said  Anne.  "I  shall  never  think  of  under- 
taking all  the  trouble  of  housekeeping  by  my- 
self." 

"I  would  not  be  in  a  hurry  about  that, 
either.  It  is  much  more  easy  to  break  up 
than  to  settle  again ;  and  you  will  hardly  find 
another  home  so  pleasant  and  complete  as 
this." 

"  It  will  never  be  pleasant  again  to  me, — 
never,"  said  Anne,  weeping.  "  Every  thing 
is  so  changed ;  and  I  cannot  bear  the  thought 
of  remaining  where  I  have  been  so  happy. 
In  fact,  I  made  up  my  mind  directly  that  I 
should  sell  this  house,  even  if  I  should  buy 
another.  These  rooms  are  so  old-fashioned." 

Mr.  Clarendon  smiled  gravely,  but  made  no 
reply.  He  had  not  a  high  opinion  of  Mrs. 
Campion's  sense,  and  he  never  considered  it 
worth  his  while  to  argue  with  Avomen. 

It  soon  appeared  that  Anne  was  quite  in 
earnest  about  breaking  up  housekeeping.  A 
purchaser  was  easily  found  for  the  house,  which 
was  a  very  fine  one,  and  desirable  in  every 
respect,  though  rather  old-fashioned;  and,  after 
casting  nbotit  for  a  boarding-place  without 
finding  one  to  suit  her,  Anne  finally  decided 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  183 

to  go  to  New  York  for  the  winter.  Governed 
by  the  feeling  of  jealousy,  which  had  lately 
increased  upon  her,  she  said  nothing  whatever 
to  Mark  and  Veronica  till  the  matter  was  all 
settled.  Mark  might  have  heard  of  it  from 
Mr.  Clarendon,  but  he  had  lately  been  very 
closely  confined  at  home,  making  preparations 
for  his  new  volume.  The  first  news  came 
from  Kitty,  who  did  not  fancy  the  changes  at 
all. 

"  Only  think,  auntie !"  said  she,  one  day, 
coming  into  the  garden,  where  Veronica  was 
busy  over  her  bulbs.  "  Mamma  has  been  and 
sold  our  house  to  Mr.  Stanton,  and  they  are 
going  to  live  in  it.  Isn't  it  too  bad  ?" 

"Why,  Kitty!  Has  she  sold  the  house?" 
asked  Veronica,  in  great  surprise.  "  I  think 
that  can  hardly  be.  Are  you  sure?" 

"  Quite,  quite  sure,"  replied  Kitty,  shaking 
her  head  sorrowfully.  "  I  think  it  is  too  bad. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanton  are  there  now,  going  all 
over  the  house,  and  talking  about  making 
alterations  in  papa's  room,  and  all,"  she  added, 
bursting  into  tears.  "  I  can't  bear  to  have 
them  go  into  papa's  room;  and  I  won't  have 
that  ugly  Mr.  Stanton  sit  in  papa's  chair  and 
smoke.  I  have  a  great  mind  to  set  fire  to  the 
ifi 


184  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

house  and  burn  it  all  down,  so  that  they  can- 
not have  it !" 

"  Hush,  hush,  Kitty !  That  is  a  very  wrong 
way  of  talking.  You  would  not  do  any  thing 
so  wicked,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  don't  care !"  cried  Kitty,  who  had  worked 
herselY  up  into  one  of  those  frantic  fits  which 
Veronica  especially  dreaded.  "  He  shall  not 
have  papa's  chair,  and  mamma  is  wicked  to 
talk  of  selling  it  to  him.  I  told  her  so,  and 
she  only  laughed  at  me,  and  told  me  to  stay  in 
the  nursery ;  but  I  wouldn't.  I  just  ran  away, 
and  came  down  here." 

"  Without  asking  ?"  said  Rosy,  opening  her 
eyes. 

"Never  mind,  Rosy,"  interposed  Veronica. 
"Kitty,  you  should  not  have  come  without 
asking;  but,  now  you  are  here,  you  may  stay 
and  help  me,  if  you  will  be  good  and  stop  cry- 
ing. Come,  now,  be  quiet  at  once." 

There  was  something  in  Veronica's  voice 
which  always  influenced  Kitty,  even  in  her 
wildest  mood.  She  made  a  brave  effort  to 
check  her  sobs.  Presently  Veronica  found  em- 
ployment for  her  and  Rosy  in  carrying  away  the 
dried  tops  of  the  lilies  and  portulaccas  which 
she1  had  pulled  up ;  and  before  long  the  little 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  185 

girls  were  laughing  gayly  over  their  work  and 
seeing  which  could  carry  the  biggest  basketful. 
In  the  midst  of  the  fun,  Anne's  carriage 
stopped  at  the  gate,  and  Anne  herself  came 
in.  She  had  never  been  at  the  house  before 
since  John's  death.  She  looked  very  pretty 
and  youthful,  in  her  deep  and  fashionable 
weeds;  and  her  face  was  composed  to  the  pro- 
per expression  of  solemnity.  Both  voice  and 
face  changed,  however,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
Kitty,  whose  black  frock  was  certainly  not 
improved  in  appearance  by  her  gardening  ope- 
rations. 

"  Kitty,  you  naughty  child !  How  did  you 
come  here,  and  what  have  you  been  about? 
You  look  like  a  little  beggar-girl !" 

"  Kitty  has  been  helping  me  in  the  garden," 
said  Veronica.  "  It  is  only  loose  dust,  Anne, 
which  will  easily  brush  off.  I  saw  that  she 
had  on  an  old  frock  before  I  set  her  to  work." 

"  Not  so  very  old,  either.  She  has  only  had 
it  three  months,"  said  Anne ;  "  though  no  one 
could  ever  guess  so  to  see  the  state  it  is  in, 
spotted  from  top  to  bottom.  You  are  a  pig, 
Kitty !  Why  can't  you  be  neat,  like  Rosy  ?" 

"  I  don't  care,"  returned  Kitty,  sullenly. 
"I  can't  help  it," 


186  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"Yes,  that  is  your  motto!  ' Don't  care/  in- 
deed !  What  do  you  think  your  poor  papa 
would  say  to  see  you  such  a  naughty  girl  ?" 

"  Go  to  Becky,  Kitty,  and  ask  her  to  brush 
your  dress  clean  and  wash  your  face  and 
hajids,"  interposed  Veronica,  dreading  another 
outburst  from  Kitty.  "  The  fault  was  mine, 
Anne,  I  assure  you,"  she  added,  as  the  chil- 
dren went  away  together.  "  Kitty  seemed  to 
feel  so  unhappy,  that  I  set  her  to  work  as  the 
best  means  of  diverting  her.  She  tells  me 
that  you  have  sold  your  house.  Was  not  that 
rather  a  sudden  move  on  your  part  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Anne ;  "  not  sudden  at  all. 
I  have  been  thinking  about  it  ever  since  Mr. 
Campion  died.  With  my  reduced  income,  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  be  economical." 

Anne  was  fond  of  talking  about  her  reduced 
income,  and  she  had  repeated  the  phrase  so 
many  times  that  she  really  began  to  believe  in 
it  herself. 

"Mr.  Clarendon  told  me  he  did  not  think 
any  particular  economy  would  be  necessary  on 
your  part,"  observed  Veronica. 

"I  wish  Mr.  Clarendon  would  not  gossip 
about  my  aifairs,"  was  the  reply. 

"  There  was  no  gossip  in  the  matter,"  said 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  187 

Veronica,  determined  not  to  be  ruffled.  "As 
your  nearest  relations,  I  suppose  he  thought 
we  would  be  interested  to  understand  your 
affairs.  I  hope  you  get  a  good  price  for  your 
house,  since  you  feel  obliged  to  sell  it?" 

"  Eight  thousand,"  said  Anne.  "  Mr.  Qla- 
rcndon  seems  satisfied;  though  I  really  think 
he  might  have  got  more  if  he  had  tried." 

"And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  now?" 

"  Break  up  and  go  to  boarding.  Indeed,  I 
have  pretty  much  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to 
New  York  for  the  winter.  I  need  a  change; 
and  Kitty  ought  to  have  better  educational 
advantages  than  she  has  here." 

"  Better  educational  advantages  for  a  child 
who  can  scarcely  read !"  thought  Veronica;  but 
she  said  nothing,  and  Anne  continued: — 

"  I  shall  send  her  to  school, — perhaps  to 
boarding-school.  She  is  growing  very  trouble- 
some, and  needs  stricter  discipline  than  my 
health  and  spirits  are  equal  to."  And  Anne 
heaved  a  proper  and  becoming  sigh. 

"  It  will  come  rather  hard  upon  her,"  Ve- 
ronica could  not  help  saying.  "  She  has  been 
used  to  so  much  liberty  all  her  life." 

"  She  has  been  used  to  a  great  deal  too  much 
liberty,"  replied  Anne,  fretfully.  "Her  poor, 

16* 


188   *  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

dear  papa  always  spoiled  her  so.  She  carried 
on  so  this  morning  that  I  was  perfectly  ashamed 
of  her.  I  am  sure  I  have  done  every  thing  in 
the  world  for  her ;  and  it  is  rather  hard  to  have 
her  tell  me,  before  strangers,  that  she  did  not 
love  me  a  bit,  as  she  did  before  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Stanton  to-day." 

"  I  should  not  allow  children  to  make  such 
speeches,"  said  Veronica,  remembering  how 
often  Kitty  had  been  allowed  to  say  the  same 
thing  unreproved  when  she  was  a  little  child, 
lest  she  should  be  made  insincere  by  restraint. 
"  They  do  not  seem  to  matter  so  much  when 
children  are  young;  but  they  have  a  different 
sound  at  Kitty's  age." 

"  Well,  I  can't  help  that  now,"  returned 
Anne.  "  She  is  as  she  is,  and  I  must  make  the 
best  of  her.  I  never  saw  a  child  alter  as  she 
has  done  during  the  last  two  years.  It  is  all 
the  fault  of  my  own  good  nature  in  taking 
Kitty  and  letting  you  have  Rosy.  I  never  do 
make  a  sacrifice  but  I  have  reason  to  repent. 
However,  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  I 
came  to  see  if  you  would  like  to  take  some  of 
my  furniture  in  case  I  sell  it."; 

"Mark  would  like  the  furniture  of  John's 
room,  I  know,"  replied  Veronica.  "As  to  the 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  189 

rest,  you  know  we  have  lately  replenished  our 
house  so  far  as  was  necessary.  However,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  store  any  thing  for  you  that 
you  may  wish  to  dispose  of  in  that  way. 
Thanks  to  our  old-fashioned  house  that  you 
laugh  at,  we  have  a  spacious  garret." 

"  I  thought  you  would  probably  buy  a  new 
house,  now  you  are  so  much  richer." 

"  Oh,  no.  This  house  suits  us  perfectly, 
now  that  we  have  the  garden  and  library. 
When  do  you  mean  to  break  up?" 

"  I  shall  begin  directly.  There  is  so  much 
to  do  that  I  quite  dread  it,  and  I  want  to  settle 
myself  before  winter.  I  wish  you  and  Mark 
would  come  over  this  evening  and  decide  upon 
what  things  you  want.  Where  is  Kitty  ?" 

"  She  and  Rosy  are  playing  in  the  library. 
I  was  going  to  suggest  that  she  might  stay 
here  while  you  are  breaking  up.  She  will  be 
out  of  your  way ;  and  I  think  she  will  enjoy 
the  visit." 

Anne  said  she  would  think  of  it.  Veronica 
and  Mark  went  over  in  the  evening,  accord- 
ing to  appointment,  and  Anne,  in  a  sudden  fit 
of  generosity,  made  them  a  present  of  all  John's 
books  and  furniture,  together  with  some  very 
heavy  old  chairs  and  some  ancient  china,  which 


190  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

had  gone  to  him  on  the  family  breaking-up, 
and  on  which  Anne  set  no  value. 

Kitty  was  a  little  comforted  when  she 
learned  that  Uncle  Mark  was  to  have  papa's 
things;  but  her  grief  was  renewed  when  she 
saw  the  carpets  actually  torn  up  and  the  furni- 
ture removed  in  preparation  for  the  sale.  She 
alternated  constantly  between  passionate  bursts 
of  crying  and  long  fits  of  moping,  in  which  she 
wandered  about  the  house,  turning  over  and 
surveying  all  the  familiar  objects  from  which 
she  was  soon  to  be  separated.  Anne,  really 
touched  by  her  grief,  made  many  efforts  to 
comfort  her  by  extra  petting,  and  by  tales  of 
the  wonderful  and  beautiful  things  she  would 
see  in  New  York;  but  Kitty  steadfastly  refused 
consolation. 

"  Papa  won't  be  there,  nor  Uncle  Mark,  nor 
any  one  that  I  care  about,"  she  sobbed,  in  one 
of  her  confidences  to  Rosy,  with  whom  she  was 
spending  her  last  few  days.  "  It  will  be  all 
strange  and  hateful:  I  know  it  will." 

"But  we  can  write  to  one  another;  and  how 
nice  that  will  be!"  said  Rosy.  "Mamma  said 
we  might." 

"  But  I  can't  write,"  said  Kitty. 

"  You  can  learn,  you  know,"  replied  Rosy. 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  191 

"  But  can't  yon  write,  Kitty  ?  Why,  I  could 
write  two  years  ago.  I  wrote  a  letter  to  papa 
when  he  was  in  Boston,  direction  and  all;  and 
mamma  said  it  was  a  very  good  letter  in- 
deed." 

"  I  am  a  dunce,"  said  Kitty,  despondingly. 
"  Every  one  says  so, — even  Uncle  Mark.  I  do 
every  thing  that  is  bad  and  naughty  all  the 
time,  and  I  can't  help  it.  Mamma  says  she  is 
ashamed  of  me,  because  I  get  my  frocks  so 
dirty;  and  I  know  I  do,  but  I  can't  help  that 
either.  I  don't  see  how  you  keep  yourself  so 
clean,  Rosy.'7 

"I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  unless  it  is  be- 
cause I  learned  when  I  was  little,"  replied 
Rosy.  "  Mamma  used  to  give  me  a  penny  for 
spending-money  if  I  wore  my  apron  two  days 
without  a  spot." 

"  That  is  just  it,"  said  Kitty.  "  I  wish  I 
hud  learned  when  I  was  little,  and  then  it 
would  not  be  so  hard.  Mamma  is  always 
scolding  me  about  something,  and  then  she 
says,  'Why  don't  you  do  like  Rosy  ?'  till  I  feel 
as  if  I  hated  you  and  her  and  everybody." 

"  Oh,  Kitty,  how  can  you  say  so?"  exclaimed 
Rosy,  greatly  distressed.  "  How  can  you  say 
you  hate  me?" 


192  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

"  I  don't  hate  you,"  replied  Kitty,  putting 
her  arms  round  her  sister's  neck.  "I  didn't 
mean  that.  I  love  you  dearly:  so  don't  cry, 
Rosy.  But  it  does  make  me  feel  ugly  when 
mamma  says  such  things." 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  good,  Kitty,  and  then 
Aunt  Anne  would  not  scold  you,"  said  Rosy, 
whose  faith  in  her  own  mother's  justice  was 
firm  as  a  rock.  "If  we  are  naughty,  we  are 
found  fault  with,  of  course ;  but  not  if  we  are 
good." 

Kitty  shook  her  head.  "  It  don't  make 
much  difference,  that  I  see;  and,  besides,  I  don't 
know  how  to  be  good.  And  it  is  so  tiresome 
to  think  about  it  all  the  time.  If  I  had 
learned  when  I  was  little,  then  it  would  be 
easier;  and,  besides, — I  know  something,  Rosy, 
and  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  will  promise  never 
to  tell  any  one." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Rosy, 
doubtfully.  "  I  always  do  tell  papa  every 
thing,  when  he  takes  me  on  his  knee  at 
night." 

"Then  I  shall  ndf  tell  you;  because  Jane 
told  me  I  must  not  let  any  one  know." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  said  Rosy.  "  Let  us 
have  one  more  play  with  our  dolls  and  dishes. 


FARTHER   CHANGES.  193 

I  will  ask  Becky  to  give  us  some  cake  and 
things." 

"I  don't  care  much  about  dolls  now;  but  I 
will  play  if  you  like,  Rosy,"  said  Kitty,  rather 
disappointed  at  Rosy's  want  of  curiosity.  But 
her  mind  was  quite  too  full  of  her  secret  to 
keep  it  to  herself,  and  out  it  came  at  last. 

"Only  think,  Rosy!  Jane  says  I  am  not 
mamma's  own  child,  and  you  are  not  your 
mamma's,  either.  She  says  our  own  mamma 
died  in  the  hospital, — -just  think,  Rosy!  in  the 
hospital,  where  the  poor  people  go ! — and  that 
your  mamma  and  mine  adopted  us,  and  that 
our  mamma  was  poor.  And  Jane  says,"  she 
continued,  bursting  into  tears,  "that  people 
always  get  tired  of  adopted  children  after  a 
while,  and  that  mamma  is  tired  of  me,  and 
that  is  the  reason  she  scolds  me  so." 

(l  Then  Jane  is  a  wicked  woman  to  say  such 
things,  and  you  are  a  naughty,  wicked  child  to 
listen  to  her!"  said  Rosy,  with  indignant  deci- 
sion. "I  don't  believe  one  word  of  it." 

"It  is  true,  for  ail  that,"  returned  Kitty, 
"Jane  says  she  lived  at  our  house  when 
mamma  brought  me  home,  and  that  I  had 
hardly  any  clothes  at  all  till  she  dressed  me, 
and  that  I  was  a  year  old  then.  And  she  says 


194  THE   TWIN    HOSES. 

we  are  twins,  and  that  our  own  papa  was  a 
bad  man,  and  did  not  treat  our  own  mamma 
well,  and  that  was  what  killed  her.  So  papa 
was  not  my  own  father,  after  all." 

Rosy  looked  perfectly  stunned  at  the  intel- 
ligence which  came  upon  her.  "  Then  I  am 
not  my  mamma's  child,  either,  nor  papa's!  I 
am  an  orphan,  like  the  little  children  at  the 
Home !  Oh,  papa,  papa !  Oh,  what  shall  I 
do  ?"  And  Rosy  threw  herself  down  upon  the 
sofa,  in  an  agony  of  crying  and  sobbing  very 
unusual  with  her. 

Kitty,  much  alarmed  at  the  effect  of  her 
words,  tried  in  vain  to  quiet  her ;  and  at  last 
Becky  came  in. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  children  ?"  she 
exclaimed.  "  What  are  you  crying  about  ?" 

"  We  are  crying  because  I  am  going  away 
to-morrow,"  replied  Kitty,  to  whom  a  false 
excuse  was  no  novelty.  Rosy  was  silent. 

"Poor  dears!"  said  Becky;  "no  wonder  you 
feel  badly  about  it;  but  don't  cry.  That  won't 
do  any  good.  Winter  will  be  gone  before  you 
know  it;  and  just  think  of  all  the  things  you 
will  have  to  tell  each  other  in  the  spring. 
Come,  I  am  going  to  make  some  nice  cake,  and 
you  shall  help  me.  I  am  going  to  make  each 


FAETHEB   CHANGES.  195 

of  you  a  bird's-nest  cake.  I  bought  the 
almonds  and  citron  on  purpose  this  very 
morning." 

But  not  even  the  honour  of  grating  nutmegs 
and  blanching  almonds, — not  even  the  frosted 
cake  crowned  with  a  bird's  nest  of  sliced  cit- 
rons, containing  four  sugar-almond  eggs, — not 
Anne's  parting  present  of  the  long-coveted 
and  beautifully-furnished  little  writing-desk, — 
could  lift  the  weight  from  Rosy's  spirits.  Her 
father  and  mother  noticed  her  depression,  but 
naturally  attributed  it  to  grief  at  parting  with 
Kitty;  and  Rosy  did  not  undeceive  them.  For 
the  first  time  she  dreaded  the  evening  hour 
with  her  father, — for  the  first  time  went  to  bed 
with  a  secret  on  her  mind  and  a  weight  on  her 
conscience ! 


17 


196 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOST'S   SECRET. 

'HE  clay  passed  on,  and  still  Rosy 
was  depressed,  losing  her  interest  in 
all  her  employments,  caring  neither 
to  work  nor  play,  unwilling  to  be 
a  minute  away  from  father  and  mo- 
ther, but  silent  and  reserved  in  their 
company.  Veronica  became  seriously 
alarmed,  especially  as  the  child's  health  seemed 
to  be  failing. 

"  Come,  Rosy,"  said  she,  one  afternoon,  "  I 
want  you  to  go  round  to  the  '  Home'  for  me. 
I  want  to  send  Miss  Brown  the  yarn  I  bought 
for  her  yesterday,  and  Mrs.  Norris  has  some 
new  kittens  which  you  have  never  seen." 

Rosy  had  always  looked  upon  a  visit  to  the 
"  Home"  as  one  of  her  great  treats.  The  old 
ladies  were  all  very  fond  of  her,  and  sometimes 
almost  quarrelled  as  to  who  should  have  her  to 
tea;  and  she  was  happy  in  the  little  services 


ROSY'S  SECRET.  197 

she  was  able  to  render  them, — in  dusting  Miss 
Brown's  books,  and  arranging  Mrs.  Olin's 
basket,  and  watching  Mrs.  Holloway  make  lace 
on  the  lace-pillow  she  had  brought  from  Devon- 
shire so  long  ago.  But  to-day  she  hung  back. 

"  Can't  Nelly  carry  the  yarn  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Nelly  is  busy ;  and,  besides,  I  want  you  to 
go.  The  walk  will  do  you  good,  and  it  would 
not  Le  kind  to  Mrs.  Nor"ris  to  refuse  her  invi- 
tation. Come,  find  your  hat  and  basket,  and 
gather  a  bunch  of  rosemary  and  bergamot  for 
Mrs.  Grimes,  the  blind  woman." 

The  habit  of  unquestioning  obedience  pre- 
vailed, and  Rosy  set  out  on  her  mission ;  but 
it  was  with  such  evident  reluctance  to  leave 
home,  even  for  an  hour,  that  Veronica  did 
not  know  what  to  think  of  her. 

"  I  cannot  understand  all  this  grief  for  Kitty, 
unless  there  is  something  in  the  old  notion  of 
a  peculiarly  close  tie  between  twins,"  said  she 
to  Mark,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  con- 
versation. "I  never  thought  Kitty  and  Rosy 
were  particularly  congenial." 

"  There  is  something  more  about  it,"  said 
Mark.  "  The  child  has  a  weight  upon  her 
spirits.  I  should  almost  think  some  one  had 
been  frightening  her." 


198  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

"Who  could  possibly  frighten  her?" 

"She  has  something  upon  her  mind,  more 
than  Kitty's  going  away,"  said  Mark.  "  I 
have  been  watching  her  for  some  days,  and  I 
am  sure  of  it.  I  must  try  and  find  out  what 
the  matter  is." 

"  Can  you  give  any  guess  ?"  asked  Veronica. 
"  I  am  quite  sure  the  trouble  dates  from  Kitty's 
last  day's  visit.  Is  it  possible  that  Kitty  can 
have  led  her  into  any  scrape  ?" 

"It  is  just  possible.  Kitty  has  grown  sly 
lately.  She  may  have  done  something  wrong 
and  made  Rosy  promise  not  to  tell.  We  have 
taught  her  to  be  so  truthful  that  a  hastily  ex- 
torted promise  may  be  weighing  upon  her.  I 
will  try  to  find  out  this  evening." 

Rosy  came  home  from  her  visit  somewhat 
enlivened.  Mrs.  Norris  was  going  to  save  the 
prettiest  kitten  for  her.  She  had  taken  up  the 
stitches  upon  Mrs.  Grimes's  knitting,  and  had 
read  her  library-book  all  through  to  her  and 
Miss  Brown.  She  drank  tea  with  Mrs.  Norris, 
and  washed  up  the  tea-things  afterwards,  and 
watered  all  her  flowers,  and  Granny  Pratt's  as 
well.  All  these  labours  of  love  cheered  her 
for  a  time;  but  the  depression  returned  in  full 
force. 


ROSY'S  SECRET.  199 

Poor  Rosy!  She  was  indeed  to  be  pitied. 
The  solid  ground  on  which  she  had  walked 
all  her  life,  seemed  to  have  been  cut  away  by 
Kitty's  communication,  and  she  felt  as  though 
she  had  nothing  to  which  she  could  trust. 
The  more  she  thought,  the  more  reason  she 
saw  to  believe  Kitty's  tale.  It  explained  many 
little  things  which  had  puzzled  her, — remarks 
she  had  overheard  among  the  old  ladies  and 
from  visitors,  and  speeches  of  Aunt  Anne's  to 
Kitty  when  she  was  displeased, — especially  one 
overheard  by  her  on  the  occasion  of  Anne's  last 
visit : — "  You  may  thank  your  good  luck  that 
I  gave  up  Rosy  to  you  and  took  Kitty  myself." 
Was  it  really  true  that  parents  did  tire  of 
adopted  children?  Would  there  come  a  time 
when  mamma  would  feel  about  her  as  Aunt 
Anne  did  about  Kitty? 

But  there  was  something  more  resting  upon 
Rosy's  mind  than  the  discovery  she  had  made. 
She  felt  that  she  had  agreed  to  Kitty's  false- 
hood by  allowing  Becky  to  believe  that  they 
were  crying  for  their  approaching  separation, 
and  that  she  was  deceiving  her  parents  by  per- 
mitting them  to  think  she  was  grieving  for  her 
sister.  More  than  once  she  had  made  up  her 

mind  to  tell  papa  all;  but,  then,  papa  so  hated 

17* 


200  THE   TWIN   HOSES. 

any  thing  like  a  lie, — would  not  such  a  con- 
fession hasten  the  day  she  dreaded,  when  he  and 
mamma  Avould  begin  to  look  coldly  upon  her 
and  turn  her  off? — and,  then,  what  would  Kitty 
think  ? 

It  was  a  terrible  strait  for  the  strong  feel- 
ings and  sensitive  conscience  of  the  little  one; 
and  well  it  was  for  her  that  she  had  a  wise  friend 
to  deal  with  her.  When  Mark  took  her  on  his 
knee  in  the  fire-lighted  library  that  night,  he 
held  her  silently  against  his  breast  for  some 
minutes,  while  his  heart  was  lifted  up  to  the 
Fountain  of  Wisdom,  that  he  might  have  dis- 
cretion and  grace  given  him  to  deal  with  the 
child  of  his  love. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  at  last,  tenderly, 
"that  my  little  Rosy  has  some  secret  trouble 
on  her  mind,  which  she  has  been  hiding  from 
papa  and  mamma.  Is  it  not  so,  my  love?" 

Rosy  breathed  a  sigh,  which  was  almost 
a  sob,  and  nestled  closer,  but  she  made  no 
reply. 

"Has  any  one  been  frightening  you,  Rosy?" 

"  No,  papa, — not  frightening,  exactly, — 
but- 

"But  what,  sweetheart?  Tell  papa  all 
about  it." 


ROSY'S  SECRET.  201 

Rosy  could  no  longer  refrain.  She  clasped 
her  arms  round  her  father's  neck,  and  sobbed 
out,  "  Oh,  papa,  it  isn't  true,  is  it  ?" 

"  What  is  not  true,  love  ?" 

"  What  Kitty  says, — what  Jane  told  Kitty, 
— that  you  and  mamma  are  not  rny  own  papa 
and  mamma, — that  my  real  papa  and  mamma 
are  dead.  Oh,  papa!  papa!"  And,  lifting  her 
head  and  seeming  to  read  in  her  father's  face 
the  confirmation  of  her  fears,  she  dropped  it 
again  on  his  shoulder,  and  sobbed  bitterly,  with 
those  deep  drawn-sobs  which  are  so  heart- 
rending in  a  little  child. 

Mark  drew  a  long  breath.  It  had  come, 
then, — the  time  he  had  always  dreaded  and 
had  never  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind 
how  to  meet.  He  clasped  Rosy  still  closer, 
and  bent  his  face  upon  her  glossy  curls  for 
a  few  minutes. 

"  Rosy,  my  dearest  child,  listen  to  me,"  he 
said,  in  that  tender,  calm  voice  peculiarly  his 
own.  "I  meant  to  tell  you  all  this  myself, 
and  perhaps  I  have  been  to  blame  in  not  doing 
so  before,  instead  of  leaving  you  to  hear  it 
from  strangers.  Quiet  yourself  now,  and 
listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story." 

Rosy  made  a  brave  effort,  and  by  degrees  the 


202  THE   TWIN   ROSES.  • 

sobs  ceased,  though  she  did  not  lift  up  her 
head. 

"  It  is  true,  my  dear,  that  in  one  way  you 
are  not  our  own  child, — not  as  Nelly  is  her 
mother's  own  child.  Your  mother  was  a  dear 
friend  of  mamma's,  who  died  here  on  her  way 
to  New  England.  Your  father  died  before  you 
and  Kitty  were  born ;  and  when  your  mother 
found  that  she  was  going  to  heaven,  she  gave 
you  to  mamma  for  her  own  child  as  long  as 
you  should  live.  You  are  as  much  ours  as 
Nelly  is  her  mother's,  but  in  a  different  way." 

"Then  my  own  mother  was  not  a  poor 
woman?"  said  Rosy.  "Jane  told  Kitty  that 
she  was,  and  that  was  the  reason  she  was  in 
the  hospital;  and  she  said  my  father  was  a 
bad,  wicked  man,  and  abused  her." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  the  circumstances,  so  far 
as  I  know  them,  Rosy,  and  you  can  judge  for 
yourself."  He  then  went  over  the  outlines  of 
Daisy's  history,  and  added,  in  conclusion,  "  I 
believe  it  is  true  that  your  father  did  many 
wrong  things  during  his  lifetime.  He  was 
not  brought  up  to  love  God  and  try  to  please 
him,  as  you  have  been.  But  he  repented  of  all 
his  sins  before  his  death,  and  I  have  not  the 
least  doubt  that  God  forgave  him  and  that  he 


ROSY'S  SECRET.  203 

is  now  happy  with  your  mother  in  heaven. 
It  is  not  true  that  he  ever  ill  treated  her.  She 
told  me  herself  that  he  was  never  any  thing 
but  perfectly  kind  to  her." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !"  said  Rosy.  "  It  seemed 
so  dreadful  that  he  should  have  been  wicked 

and  died "  Rosy  stopped,  but  Mark  well 

understood  what  she  had  been  thinking  of. 

"  But  Jane  says/'  continued  Rosy,  "  that 

people  who  adopt  children "  Rosy  stopped 

short.  She  was  already  beginning  to  be 
ashamed  of  her  fears. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Mark,  who  guessed  what  was 
coming.  "  Perhaps  she  said  that  people  who 
adopt  children  always  tire  of  them,  and  ill 
treat  them  after  a  while.  Did  she  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  did  my  Rosy  think  that  her  papa 
and  mamma,  who  have  taken  care  of  her  all 
her  life,  would  treat  her  so  cruelly?"  asked 
Mark,  tenderly,  but  with  a  look  and  tone 
which  went  straight  to  Rosy's  heart.  "  What 
have  they  ever  done,  that  their  little  daughter 
should  think  so  hardly  of  them  ?" 

"  Oh,  papa,  don't!"  cried  Rosy.  "Oh,  I  am 
so  sorry  and  so  ashamed!  Please  do  forgive 
me,  papa." 


204  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

"  I  forgive  you,  my  daughter,  and  I  hope 
you  will  never  be  so  foolish  again.  Suppose, 
because  some  people  say  that  adopted  children 
always  turn  out  badly,  we  should  begin  to 
watch  you  to  see  whether  you  were  not  going 
to  be  ungrateful  and  undutiful  ?" 

"  Why  do  people  say  such  things,  papa  ?" 

"  I  suppose  it  comes  about  in  this  way. 
People  who  adopt  children  often  begin  by  in- 
dulging them  in  every  thing,  letting  them 
have  their  own  way,  and  spoiling  them,  as  we 
say.  This  makes  the  children  troublesome, 
selfish,  and  disagreeable.  When  they  grow 
older,  their  faults  show  more  plainly  and  be- 
come more  annoying  and  hard  to  bear  with. 
The  children  are  selfish  and  exacting,  and  the 
parents  lose  patience  with  the  very  faults  they 
have  helped  to  make.  The  same  thing  often 
happens  with  parents  and  their  own  children." 

"  I  know  when  we  were  up  at  Clifton,  sum- 
mer befqre  last,  Aunt  Anne  did  not  think 
Kitty  could  do  any  thing  wrong,"  remarked 
Rosy.  "  She  always  thought  it  was  my  fault, 
or  somebody's,  whenever  Kitty  quarrelled  with 
the  other  children.  But  Kitty  used  to  mind 
Uncle  John ;  and  I  think  she  loved  him  a  great 
deal  more  than  Aunt  Anne." 


EOSY'S  SECRET.  205 

"  There  is  another  thing,  Rosy,  that  you  may 
learn,"  continued  Mark.  "  Do  you  think  it  is 
very  pleasant  to  have  a  secret  ?" 

"  No,  indeed !"  said  Rosy,  heartily.  "I  never 
want  to  have  another  as  long  as  I  live.  I 
think  it  is  dreadful." 

"Then  remember  this,  my  dear:  whenever 
any  one  wishes  you  to  have  a  secret  from  your 
father  and  mother,  be  sure  they  are  wrong. 
We  want  you  to  feel  that  we  are  your  best 
friends,  and  more  interested  in  giving  you 
pleasure  than  any  one  else  can  be.  So  I  hope 
you  will  have  no  more  concealments, — unless, 
indeed,  you  should  wish  to  surprise  me  with  a 
fine  new  pair  of  slippers  for  a  Christmas-pre- 
sent," he  added,  smiling.  "In  that  case  I 
permit  you  to  keep  your  design  a  secret  till  the 
time  comes." 

"  I  think  Kitty  loves  to  have  secrets,"  re- 
marked Rosy.  "  She  very  often  says,  '  Now, 
don't  you  ever  tell,'  when  it  is  of  no  conse- 
quence at  all.  And  I  know  she  and  Jane 
have  secrets  from  Aunt  Anne." 

"  What  sort  of  secrets  ?" 

"  Well,  Jane's  cousin  keeps  an  ice-cream 
saloon  over  the  river.  Jane  often  takes  Kitty 
there,  and  they  give  her  ice-cream  and  candy; 


206  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

but  Jane  always  says,  '  Now,  mind,  Miss  Kitty, 
you  don't  tell  mamma.'" 

"  That  is  very  wrong  in  Jane/'  said  Mark. 
"It  is  teaching  the  child  to  deceive  her  mo- 
ther." 

"  Papa,  where  was  my  other  mamma  buried  ?" 
asked  Kosy,  after  a  little  pause. 

"Do  you  remember  that  long  grave  at 
Mount  Faith,  by  the  side  of  little  brother 
and  sisters,  where  mamma  told  you  to  plant 
the  violets?  That  is  Mamma  Daisy's  grave. 
I  intend  to  put  up  a  cross  for  her,  but  I  have 
been  waiting  till  you  should  be  old  enough  to 
understand.  Now  I  will  have  it  done  di- 
rectly, and  you  shall  go  with  me  to  choose  the 
marble." 

"And  papa,  please,  will  you  take  my  gold 
pieces  which  Uncle  John  gave  me  on  my  birth- 
day, to  pay  for  it?  I  have  never  spent  one 
of  them;  and  I  should  so  like  to  do  something 
for  dear  Mamma  Daisy.  Will  you,  please, 
papa?" 

"  Yes,  my  love,  if  you  wish.  And,  now,  is 
your  heart  at  ease  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  you  will  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  think 
papa  and  mamma  are  growing  tired  of  you, 


ROSY  S   SECRET.  207 

even  if  they  do  find  fault  with  you  some- 
times ?" 

"  No,  papa.  I  never  should  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing,  only  for  Kitty.  I  am  sure 
mamma  never  scolded  me  so  much  in  all  my 
life  as  Mrs.  Wicks  scolds  Nelly  in  one  day." 

And  so  this  great  matter  was  settled,  and 
Kosy's  mind  relieved  of  its  burden.  The 
trouble  threatened  to  come  back  when,  in  the 
course  of  two  or  three  months,  a  little  brother 
was  born.  At  first  nothing  could  exceed 
llosy's  joy;  but  her  pleasure  was  somewhat 
damped  by  a  very  innocent  speech  from 
Nelly  Wicks. 

"  Are  you  not  sorry  you  have  got  a  little 
brother,  Rosy  ?" 

"Why,  no!"  exclaimed  Rosy,  indignantly. 
"  I  am  as  glad  as  I  can  be." 

"  But  your  mother  will  not  love  you  any 
more,  now  she  has  got  a  younger  one,"  said 
Nelly.  "  My  ma  loved  me  dearly  till  Molly 
came.  She  used  to  give  me  every  thing,  and 
pet  and  kiss  me;  but  she  has  never  loved  me 
since.  And  she  did  just  so  by  Alick  when  I 
was  born,  I  know;  for  he  said  so." 

"Your   mother    might  do  so,  but  I   don't 

believe  my  mother  will,"  said  Rosy,  with  an 
is 


208  THE  TWIN   EOSES. 

instinctive  sense  of  the  difference.  Neverthe- 
less, she  was  not  without  her  apprehensions  for 
a  while,  till  she  found  that  she  was  as  much 
petted  as  ever,  and  even  more  so  by  Becky, 
who  was  also  not  without  her  fears  that  her 
nursling's  rights  would  be  encroached  upon  by 
the  new-comer. 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  Mark  went  to 
New  York  on  business  about  his  forthcoming 
book.  He  called  to  see  Anne,  whom  he  found 
established  in  a  fashionable  boarding-house, 
with  a  circle  of  fine  acquaintances  about  her, 
and  ready  to  wonder  how  she  could  ever  have 
endured  life  in  such  a  dull  place  as  Milby. 
Kitty  was  at  a  fashionable  French  school  as 
day-boarder,  and  Mark  heard  great  accounts  of 
her  progress  and  improvement;  though  Anne 
admitted  that  she  saw  very  little  of  the  child 
except  upon  Saturdays.  The  next  day  being 
a  holiday,  Mark  asked  and  obtained  permis- 
sion to  take  Kitty  out  with  him  for  a  whole 
long  morning.  Kitty  was  overjoyed.  She 
certainly  was  greatly  improved  in  outward 
manners,  and  was  learning  to  take  a  little  care 
of  her  dress,  and  to  keep  her  hands  and  teeth 
clean;  but  she  was  thinner  than  ever,  and  the 
shy,  sullen  look  she  had  begun  to  wear  was 


EOSY'S  SECIIET.  209 

painfully  apparent  when  she  was  left  to  her- 
self. Once  alone  with  Uncle  Mark,  all  her 
troubles  were  poured  out  in  a  flood.  The 
school  was  hateful,  the  girls  detestable;  she 
could  not  understand  her  lessons  or  learn 
them ;  she  was  scolded  all  the  time,  mamma 
was  very  unkind,  and  nobody  loved  her,  and 
she  wished  she  was  dead  and  buried.  Mark 
soothed  and  sympathized,  and  tried  to  come  at 
the  truth ;  but  this  was  not  easy.  Kitty  could 
not  see  that  she  was  at  all  to  blame  for  any  of 
her  troubles.  She  was  forced  to  admit  that 
she  was  often  cross  and  passionate,  but  she 
thought  it  was  all  mamma's  fault  for  not 
teaching  her  better  when  she  was  little.  In 
short,  while  she  had  the  liveliest  notion  of  her 
own  rights,  she  had  no  conception  of  the  duties 
she  owed  to  others.  She  was  to  have  every 
thing  done  for  her,  and  not  to  give  any  thing 
in  return.  All  her  troubles  were  charged  on 
the  fact  of  her  being  an  adopted  child,  and  she 
thought  if  she  only  had  her  own  dear  mamma 
she  should  be  perfectly  happy. 

"  If  you  had  your  own  mamma,  you  would 
be  obliged   to  obey  her,"  said    Mark.     "She 
taught  you  to  mind  her  when  you  were  only  a 
baby." 
0 


210  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  I  should  not  mind  obeying  her,"  said 
Kitty.  "  She  would  have  a  right  to  make 
me." 

"  And  has  not  your  mamma  a  right  to  make 
you  ?  What  would  have  become  of  you  if  she 
had  not  taken  you  ?  You  must  have  gone  to 
the  orphan-asylum." 

This  was  a  new  idea  to  Kitty. 

"Would  not  you  have  taken  me,  Uncle 
Mark?" 

"No,  my  dear:  I  could  not  have  afforded  it. 
I  was  poor  then,  and  had  to  work  hard  even 
to  support  Aunt  Veronica  and  Rosy.  And 
moreover,  Kitty,  we  should  never  have  known 
of  your  existence  but  for  your  mamma.  It 
was  she  who  found  you  in  the  hospital,  and 
she  came  at  once  to  tell  Aunt  Veronica.  She 
took  you  home  when  you  were  a  little  baby, 
unable  to  do  the  least  thing  for  yourself  or  any 
one,  and  she  has  taken  care  of  and  supported 
you  ever  since.  How  are  you  going  to  repay 
her  for  all  the  care  and  expense  you  have 
caused  her  these  eight  or  nine  years  ?" 

It  was  a  new  and  not  an  agreeable  notion  to 
Kitty  that  she  was  the  one  indebted,  and  not 
her  mother.  She  renewed  her  complaints  of 
school,  schoolmates,  and  every  one  else. 


BOSY'S    SECRET.  211 

"  I  will  tell  you  where  a  great  part  of  your 
trouble  lies,  Kitty/'  said  Mark,  interrupting 
the  catalogue  of  grievances.  "  It  is  because 
you  are  all  the  time  seeking  to  please  your- 
self,— a  thing  which  people  seldom  succeed 
in  doing.  You  think  the  girls  ought  to  make 
themselves  agreeable  to  you ;  but  you  do  not 
seem  to  remember  that  you  ought  also  to 
make  yourself  agreeable  to  them.  You  com- 
plain of  Madame,  but  I  don't  find,  from  what 
you  say,  that  you  have  really  any  thing  to  find 
fault  with." 

"  She  says  I  don't  try  to  learn  my  lessons," 
interrupted  Kitty. 

"  And  do  you  ?" 

"  Sometimes  I  do ;  but  they  are  so  hard." 

"Then  you  must  try  all  the  harder:  that  is 
all.  When  mamma  finds  fault,  don't  think, 
'  If  she  were  my  own  mamma  she  would  not 
do  so,'  but  say  to  yourself,  '  Mamma  has 
brought  me  up  and  taken  care  of  me  when  I 
had  no  other  friend,  and  I  ought  to  try  and 
please  her,'  and  endeavour  to  do  better  next 
time.  And,  Kitty,  above  all,  remember  that 
you  have  a  Father  in  heaven  who  loves  you 
and  whom  you  must  try  to  please.  Do  you 
say  your  prayers  ?" 

16* 


212  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

"Sometimes,  when  I  don't  forget,"  said 
Kitty,  hanging  her  head. 

"  But  you  must  not  forget.  Suppose  God 
.should  forget  to  take  care  of  you, — to  give 
you  air  to  breathe,  and  light  to  see  by,  and 
friends  to  care  for  you.  You  cannot  be  happy 
while  you  forget  your  Father  in  heaven;  but 
if  you  try  to  please  him  and  ask  him  to  help 
you  to  be  good,  you  will  find  that  he  will 
make  your  way  easy  to  you,  and  assist  you  iu 
winning  the  love  of  those  about  you." 

It  was  a  new  idea  to  Kitty  that  she  was  to 
win  love  and  favour  by  her  own  exertions;  but 
she  promised  to  try.  Mark  felt  very  sorry  for 
the  poor 'child,  and  almost  wished  to  take  her 
home  with  him,  at  least  for  a  visit;  but  Anne 
would  not  hear  of  it.  The  child  was  just 
coming  under  some  sort  of  discipline,  and  she 
could  not  have  her  all  broken  up  again.  Mark 
ventured  to  hint  that  it  might  be  well  for 
Kitty  to  learn  some  other  things  before  begin- 
ning French  and  music;  but  here  again  Anne 
had  a  theory.  Kitty  must  begin  French  young, 
or  she  would  never  learn  the  true  accent.  She 
only  wished  she  had  taught  her  to  read  French 
in  the  first  place,  even  before  she  learned  her 
English  letters.  She  had  requested  Madame 


ROSY'S  SECRET.  213 

to  let  the  child  have  all  her  lessons  in  that 
language ;  but  Madame  said  she  would  have 
to  learn  a  little  more  of  it  first.  Mark  said 
no  more,  thankful  at  least  to  find  that  the 
schoolmistress  had  some  sense.  Anne  was  gra- 
ciousness  itself  to  Mark,  and  would  willingly 
have  made  a  great  lion  of  him ;  but  he  was 
not  to  be  lionized,  and  she  was  fain  to  con- 
tent herself  with  talking  about  him  instead  of 
showing  him  off. 

She  sent  a  handsome  present  to  the  baby, 
and  Kitty  loaded  him  with  gifts  for  Aunt  Ve- 
ronica, little  Johnny,  and  Rosy.  Her  last 
words  were,  "  Tell  Rosy  I  hate  New  York 
just  as  much  as  I  said  I  should." 


214  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AN   UNWELCOME   VISITOR. 

I 

NE  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of 
summer,  Rosy  was  left  quite  alone 
in  the  house.  Mark  and  Vero- 
nica were  out,  driving  with  baby, 
and  Rebecca  had  stepped  over  to  see 
poor  Mrs.  Wicks,  whose  health  had 
been  for  some  time  declining.  Rosy  was 
not  at  all  afraid  of  being  left  alone :  in 
fact,  she  rather  enjoyed  having  the  house  to 
herself,  and  she  was  never  lonely  so  long  as  she 
had  her  doll,  her  books,  and  the  cat,  for  com- 
pany. The  little  girl  was  sitting  in  the  bay 
window  of  the  back  parlour,  when  she  saw  a 
carriage,  freighted  with  two  or  three  trunks, 
draw  up  to  the  door.  Rosy's  only  thought 
was  of  Aunt  Anne  and  Kitty,  and,  full  of  joy, 
she  ran  to  meet  the  welcome  guests  and  do  the 
honours  of  the  house.  She  was  disappointed. 
A  tall,  stout,  middle-aged  lady,  whom  Rosy 


AN    UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  215 

had  never  seen  before,  descended  from  the  car- 
riage. 

"  Is  this  Mark  Campion's  house  ?"  she  asked, 
sharply. 

The  tone  rather  grated  upon  Rosy's  ears  ;  but 
she  answered,  politely, — 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  but  papa  and  mamma  are  not 
at  home." 

"  Humph !"  said  the  visitor,  looking  at  her 
keenly.  "What's  your  name,  child?" 

"  Rosa  Brush  Campion,"  was  the  reply ; 
"  but  papa  and  mamma  call  me  Rosy." 

"  Humph !"  said  the  visitor,  again.  "And 
when  will  your  mamma,  as  you  call  her,  be  at 
home  ?" 

"  She  will  be  at  home  soon,"  replied  Rosy, 
very  much  perplexed ;  but,  remembering  her 
good  manners, — "  Won't  you  come  in  and  stay 
till  she  comes?" 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  I  have  come  to  stay. 
Take  off- the  trunks,"  added  the  stranger,  turn- 
ing to  the  hackrnan;  "and  you,  child,  call  a 
servant  and  have  them  taken  up-stairs." 

"  We  have  no  servant  but  Becky,  and  she 
is  not  at  home ;  but  the  trunks  can  stand  on 
the  veranda  till  mamma  comes,"  said  Rosy. 
"  Please  walk  in,  ma'am." 


216  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

The  stranger  followed  Rosy  into  the  back 
parlour,  and  seated  herself  in  Mark's  favourite 
chair. 

"  Come  here  to  me,  child,"  said  she,  taking 
both  her  hands  and  gazing  fixedly  at  her. 
"What  did  you  say  your  name  was  ?" 

Rosy  repeated  her  name  again. 

"  Nonsense !"  said  the  visitor.  "  Your  name 
is  Rosa  Brush,  and  nothing  else.  Did  no  one 
ever  tell  you  so  before  ?" 

"  I  know  that  my  dear  Mamma  Daisy's  name 
was  Brush,"  said  Rosy,  beginning  to  wish 
very  much  that  some  one  would  come.  "  It  is 
on  the  cross  which  papa  put  up  over  her  grave 
at  Mount  Faith : — '  Daisy  Brush,  aged  twenty- 
four.'" 

"So  you  do  know  something  of  the  matter. 
Did  no  one  ever  tell  you  about  your  aunt 
Adela?" 

"  No,  ma'am :  I  never  heard  of  her,"  said 
Rosy;  and,  indeed,  Mark  had  never  thought 
it  necessary  to  make  her  aware  of  her  aunt's 
existence.  "  I  did  not  know  I  had  any  aunt 
but  Aunt  Anne." 

"  You  have  no  aunt  but  Aunt  Adela :  un- 
derstand that,"  said  Miss  Brush.  "  I  am  your 
only  relation,  so  far  as  I  know,  unless  your 


AN    UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  217 

mother  had  some  cousins.  You  belong  to  me, 
and  to  no  one  else." 

"  I  belong  to  papa  and  mamma,"  said  Rosy, 
indignantly.  "  My  own  dear  Mamma  Daisy 
gave  me  to  them  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
baby,  just  before  she  died.  Papa  told  me  so 
himself,  and  he  said  I  was  his  very  own,  to 
keep  forever !" 

Miss  Brush  laughed  sarcastically.  "We 
shall  soon  see,"  said  she,  releasing  the  hands 
by  which  she  had  held  Rosy  close  to  her  side. 
"  There  is  no  particular  use  in  debating  the 
matter  with  you.  I  have  made  up  my  own 
mind,  and  that  is  enough.  Who  is  this 
coming  in?" 

"  It  is  mamma,"  said  Rosy,  experiencing  a 
sensation  of  intense  relief;  for  she  had  been 
considerably  scared  by  her  aunt's  words  and 
manner,  and,  in  her  alarm,  began  to  think  it 
possible  that  she  might  be  carried  off  by  force 
before  her  mother's  return.  "  I  will  tell  her 
1  hat  you  are  here." 

She  brought  such  an  agitated  face  to  the 
door  that  Veronica  was  startled. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  darling  ?  Has  any 
thing  frightened  you  ?" 

"No,    mamma, — yes,    mamma,  a   little! — . 


218  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Have  I  really  got  an  aunt  Adela?  There  is  a 
lady  here  who  says  she  is  my  aunt  Adela,  and 
that  I  belong  to  her.  I  don't :  do  I  ?" 

"No,  my  love.  You  belong  to  no  one  but 
me,"  replied  Veronica.  "  No  one  shall  ever 
take  you  from  me:  so  do  not  be  frightened. 
Where  is  Aunt  Adela?" 

"She  is  in  the  parlour,  and  she  has  brought 
her  trunks;  and  Rebecca  was  not  at  home; 
and — oh,  mamma,  was  it  silly? — I  could  not 
help  being  frightened !" 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  Veronica.  "  Come 
into  the  nursery,  Rosy.  I  will  just  lay  baby 
down,  and  then  go  to  see  Aunt  Adela.  She  is 
your  father's  sister,  Rosy,  and  we  must  be  civil 
to  her  while  she  stays;  though  I  must  say  she  is 
the  last  person  I  ever  expected  to  see  here." 

Veronica  might  have  said  with  truth  what 
she  came  near  saying, — that  Miss  Brush  was 
the  last  person  she  wished  to  see.  It  was  easy 
to  guess  that  she  had  come  with  the  intention 
of  possessing  herself  of  one,  perhaps  both,  of 
the  children;  and  Veronica  foresaw  a  great  deal 
of  annoyance  to  all  the  persons  concerned. 
But  she  could  not  be  uncivil  in  her  own  house. 
She  welcomed  her  old  schoolmate  with  tolerable 
.cordiality,  installed  her  in  a  pleasant  bedroom 


AN   UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  219 

up-stairs,  and  went  to  consult  with  Becky 
about  the  dinner.  Becky  had  already  heard 
from  Rosy  of  the  new  arrival,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  do  battle  on  the  instant. 

"  A  pretty  business,  to  be  sure,  coming  and 
taking  possession  of  people's  houses  in  that 
way!  I  only  wish  I  had  been  at  home!  I 
would  have  given  her  a  good  lesson." 

"  On  the  whole,  perhaps,  it  is  as  well  that 
you  were  not,"  said  Veronica,  smiling.  "But, 
now  that  Miss  Brush  is  here,  Becky,  we  must 
be  civil  to  her  as  long  as  she  stays.  I  have 
been  thinking  we  had  better  borrow  Nelly 
Wicks  for  a  few  days  to  help  about  the  house. 
I  dare  say  Miss  Brush  has  been  used  to  a  good 
deal  of  attention." 

"  I  suppose  when  she  comes  to  see  us  she 
can  live  as  we  do,"  said  Becky,  who  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  uncompromising  hostility. 
"  However,  I  have  no  objection  to  calling  in 
Nelly  for  a  while.  It  will  be  a  change  for  her ; 
and  she  needs  one, — poor  thing !" 

Miss  Brush  came  down  when  dinner  was 
ready,  elegantly  dressed,  and  with  an  evident 
determination  to  overawe  the  whole  household. 
She  did  not  succeed,  however.  Mark's  gentle, 
in  ias.su  in  ing  dignity,  and  Veronica's  even  com- 

19 


220  THE  TWIN   EOSES. 

posure,  were  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  her 
grand  airs,  and  even  Rosy  had  recovered  from 
her  fright,  and  chatted  *away  merrily  to  her 
father  and  mother.  Old  Nero,  now  the  most 
ancient  of  all  the  cats,  assumed  his  usual  place 
at  Mark's  right  hand,  and  begged  for  morsels 
of  bread,  unawed  by  the  close  vicinity  of  Miss 
Brush's  rustling  brocade.  Miss  Brush  seemed 
to  expect  to  carry  all  before  her  without  oppo- 
sition, and  already  began  to  treat  Rosy  as 
though  she  belonged  to  her;  and,  as  the  child 
was  relating  to  her  father  some  new  exploit 
of  baby's,  she  checked  her  sharply  with, — 

"  There !  that  will  do,  Rose !  Be  quiet. 
Little  girls  should  be  seen,  and  not  heard." 

Rosy  looked  up  in  innocent  confusion,  and 
Veronica's  face  flushed  with  indignation,  but 
Mark  evinced  no  discomposure.  Pie  opened 
his  eyes  upon  Miss  Brush  with  an  expression  of 
well-bred  surprise,  and  then,  turning  to  Rosy, 
asked,  "What  were  you  saying,  daughter?" 

Something  of  mischief  sparkled  in  Rosy's 
eyes  as  she  finished  her  tale,  and  Miss  Brush 
was  irritated  accordingly. 

"  In  my  day,  children  were  taught  to  be 
silent  before  their  elders,"  said  she. 

"  Rosy  has  beefi  taught  not  to  interrupt  the 


AN   UNWELCOME   VISITOR.  221 

conversation  of  others,  whether  elders  or 
juniors,"  said  Mark,  politely.  "  She  has  been 
the  only  child  a  long  time,  however;  and  she 
has  always  been  permitted  to  talk  very  freely 
to  papa  and  mamma." 

"She  has  been  very  sufficiently  spoiled,  I 
dare  say,"  returned  Miss  Brush.  "Her  mother 
was  a  spoiled  child  before  her.  However, 
there  is  time  enough  to  correct  all  that." 

Mark  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  elevated 
his  eyebrows,  but  made  no  other  reply.  Coffee 
was  presently  brought  in,  accompanied  by 
some  dainty  cakes,  and  Rosy  was  helped  with 
the  rest.  Miss  Brush  looked  disapprovingly 
at  her  portion. 

"  When  you  live  with  me,  miss,  you  will 
have  no  such  rich  cake  as  that,  I  can  tell  you," 
said  she.  "  Cake  is  not  fit  for  children." 

"  If  Rosy  should  ever  come  to  visit  you, 
Miss  Brush,  I  dare  say  she  will  be  governed 
by  your  rules,  as  she  is  now  by  mine,"  said 
Veronica,  with  a  decided  emphasis  upon  the 
word  visit ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  long 
time  before  I  spare  her  even  to  make  a  visit 
so  far  away  from  home." 

Miss  Brush  tossed  her  head  and  made  no 
reply.  After  dinner  was  over  in  the  kitchen, 


222  THE   TWIN    KOSES. 

Mark  called  his  household  together,  as  usual, 
for  prayers.  He  had  begun  the  custom  of 
early  evening  prayers  at  the  time  when  he 
was  obliged  to  remain  late  at  the  office,  and 
it  had  been  continued  upon  Rosy's  account. 
Rosy,  who  imitated  in  every  thing  her  father's 
gracious  politeness,  offered  her  aunt  a  book; 
but  Miss  Brush  declined,  and  sat  by  in  dis- 
dainful indifference,  taking  particular  pains  to 
look  out  of  the  window  all  the  time  Mark  was 
rending,  and  sitting  bolt  upright  through  the 
prayer.  Presently  Mark  returned  to  the 
library,  and  llosy  followed  him  for  that  pre- 
cious twilight  hour  of  talk  which  neither  of 
them  ever  willingly  missed.  Miss  Brush,  who 
seemed  bent  upon  making  herself  as  disagree- 
able as  possible,  rose  to  follow  them.  This 
was  a  little  more  than  Veronica  could  stand; 
and  she  interposed : — 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Brush,  but  I  think  my 
husband  would  prefer  not  to  be  interrupted  at 
present.  He  always  gives  an  hour  in  the  even- 
ing to  our  daughter's  religious  instruction.'' 

"Humph!"  said  Miss  Brush,  returning  to 
her  seat,  however.  "So  you  have  married  a 
man  as  method istical  as  yourself,  Veronica  ! 
J  remember  you  used  to  set  up  for  a  saint  at 


AN    UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  223 

school.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  Mark  Cam- 
pion one  of  that  sort." 

"  I  don't  know  how  any  one  who  reads  his 
books  could  expect  to  find  him  any  thing- 
else/'  said  Veronica.  "He  is  not  always 
dragging  in  sacred  names  and  Scripture  phrases, 
but  I  am  sure  no  books  were  ever  more  per- 
vaded with  the  spirit  of  true  godliness." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !"  returned  Miss  Brush. 
"I  suppose  he  writes  what  he  thinks  will  suit 
the  market,  like  other  people;  but  it  is  useless 
to  tell  me  that  a  man  of  his  mind  and  cultiva- 
tion believes  in  all  those  antiquated  myths.  I 
know  better." 

Veronica  could  not  quite  trust  her  voice 
with  a  reply.  Miss  Brush  continued: — "I 
suppose  we  may  as  well  have  our  talk  out 
now  as  any  other  time.  Of  course  you  know 
that  I  have  come  for  that  child.  It  has  not 
been  convenient  for  me  to  take  her  before:  so  I 
have  been  content  to  leave  her  with  you,  espe- 
cially as  I  hate  babies.  But,  now  that  she  has 
arrived  at  a  convenient  age,  I  intend  to  take 
her  to  live  with  me,  repaying,  of  course,  all 
expenses  which  you  have  incurred  thus  far. 
You  can  make  out  your  account  to  suit  your- 
self. I  shall  not  dispute  it,  unless  it  should  be 
Iff" 


224  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

out  of  all  reason  exorbitant.  I  suppose  you 
will  be  willing  enough  to  get  rid  of  her,  now 
that  you  have  a  child  of  your  own." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Brush,"  said  Ve- 
ronica, recovering  at  once  her  voice  and  her 
composure.  "  Rosy  was  given  to  us  by  her 
dying  mother,  and  we  shall  never  resign  her 
to  any  one." 

"  I  am  sorry  the  child  is  so  like  her  mother," 
continued  Miss  Brush,  quite  disregarding  Ve- 
ronica's words.  "  I  can  see  the  same  spirit 
coming  out  all  over  her;  and  no  doubt  it  has 
been  aggravated  by  the  spoiling  she  has  re- 
ceived. However,  I  think  I  can  find  means 
to  correct  that.  I  propose  to  set  out  the  day 
after  to-morrow;  and  I  presume  you  can  have 
her  ready  by  that  time." 

"  Miss  Brush,  listen  to  me,"  said  Veronica, 
firmly.  "  Once  for  all,  you  may  lay  aside  all 
thought  of  taking  Rosy  away  with  you.  She 
is  our  child,  and  ours  she  shall  remain." 

"You  talk  like  a  fool,  A^erouica!"  said  Miss 
Brush.  "What  is  the  child  to  you?" 

"  She  is  every  thing  to  me,"  replied  Vero- 
nica. "  If  she  were  my  own  flesh  and  blood, 
she  could  not  be  dearer.  I  would  as  soon 
give  you  my  baby  as  Rosy." 


Che  Ctuin  Hosts. 


"  She  is  our  child,  and  ours  she  shall  remain."        p.  224. 


AN    UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  225 

"But  do  you  not  see  that  I  have  every 
right  to  the  child  ?  Is  she  not  my  only  brother's 
daughter, — the  last  of  my  race?" 

"If  you  wanted  the  child,  why  did  you  not 
keep  her  when  you  had  her  ?"  asked  Veronica. 
"Why  did  you  make  your  only  brother's 
widow  miserable,  and  then  turn  her  out  of 
doors  to  shift  for  herself?" 

Miss  Brush  winced  a  little.  "  I  see  the  art- 
ful little  fool  has  told  you  her  own  version  of 
the  story,"  said  she,  recovering  herself.  "  I  pre- 
sume she  did  not  mention  that  her  own  light 
conduct  was  the  cause  of  her  husband's  death?" 

"  She  told  me  that  you  said  so." 

"  But  you  did  not  believe  it  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Veronica.  "  I  never  knew 
Daisy  to  be  any  thing  but  truthful;  and  I  do 
not  believe  she  told  me  a  falsehood  upon  her 
dying  bed." 

"  No  doubt  she  made  out  a  fine  romantic 
story  of  persecution  for  '  righteousness'  sake/  " 
said  Miss  Brush.  "Perhaps  I  might  have  been 
hard  upon  her;  but  she  made  me  sick  with  her 
airs,  and,  above  all,  with  her  piety.  I  know 
she  made  people  think  her  a  martyr  and  me 
a  demon.  But  that  does  not  matter.  I  shall 
talk  to  your  husband,  Veronica,  and  I  have  no 


226  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

doubt  I  shall  convince  him  of  the  justice  of 
my  claim.  If  I  do  so,  of  course  you  will  give 
the  matter  up;  and,  meantime,  I  beg  you  will 
not  prejudice  the  child  against  me  by  any '  raw- 
head  and  bloody-bones'  stories.  If  you  will 
give  me  a  candle,  I  will  go  to  my  room ;  for  I 
feel  rather  tired." 

Veronica  was  only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  her 
unwelcome  visitor.  She  provided  light,  saw 
that  the  room  was  made  comfortable,  and  then 
returned  to  the  library,  where  she  found  Rosy 
still  nestled  in  her  father's  arms. 

"Well,"  said  Mark,  "has  the  dragon  gone 
to  roost?  Here  is  Rosy  afraid  that  she  is 
going  to  be  carried  off,  like  another  lovely 
Sabra,  with  no  champion  to  defend  her." 

"  The  dragon  has  retired  for  the  night,  I 
hope,"  replied  Veronica.  "I  never  saw  any 
one  more  altered, — in  manner,  I  mean;  for  I 
can  see  that  she  is  the  same  at  heart.  She 
used  to  be  'smoother  than  butter,'  gaining  all 
her  ends  by  management  and  diplomacy;  but 
she  seems  to  think  now  that  she  has  nothing  to 
do  but  to  drive  straight  on  over  everybody." 

"  She  has  had  fifteen  years  of  arbitrary 
power  since  you  knew  her,"  remarked  her  hus- 
band. "What  wind  blew  her  here?" 


AN    UNWELCOME    VISITOR.  227 

"  The  wind  of  her  own  fancy,  I  presume." 

"  Mamma,  do  you  think  that  Aunt  Adela 
has  come  for  me  ?"  asked  Rosy,  anxiously. 

"  I  presume  she  has,  my  dear ;  but  you  need 
not  be  frightened.  Papa  and  I  have  no  notion 
of  letting  you  go." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mark.  "  Our  little  Eosy 
has  grown  in  our  garden  too  long  to  be  trans- 
planted. Do  not  let  your  heart  be  troubled 
by  any  such  fear." 

"  Well,  I  was  frightened !"  said  Rosy,  can- 
didly. "She  looked  so  tall  and  big,  and  she 
held  my  hand  so  tight  when  she  said,  'You 
belong  to  me  and  to  no  one  else/  Oh,  how  I 
did  wish  some  one  would  come !" 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  said  Mark.  "  But  you 
may  sleep  in  peace,  my  daughter.  No  one 
but  God  shall  ever  take  you  from  us.  Good- 
night." But  Rosy  still  lingered.  "Well,  what 
is  it  now?" 

"  Please,  mamma,  may  I  ask  Becky  to  let 
me  sleep  with  her  to-night?" 

\7eronica  smiled.  "Yes,  certainly,  my  love. 
Poor  child  !"  she  added,  as  Rosy  closed  the 
door.  "  No  wonder  she  is  afraid  to  sleep 
alone." 


228 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   CONTEST. 

llSS  BRUSH  came  down  to  break- 
fast, apparently  in  a  somewhat 
more  amiable  mood.  She  was  par- 
ticularly gracious  to  Rosy,  who, 
relieved  by  her  faith  in  her  father's 
assurance  that  no  one  should  take  her 
from  him,  responded  in  the  pretty,  cordial 
manner  natural  to  her,  and  readily  brought 
her  books  and  her  work  to  show  how  much 
she  had  learned. 

"  You  seem  to  have  done  very  well,  so  far," 
said  Miss  Brush.  "  I  suppose  you  have  not 
begun  French  yet  ?" 

u  She  has  been  waiting  to  learn  a  little  more 
English  first,"  said  Veronica. 

"  My  maid  speaks  the  language  very  well," 
said  Miss  Brush.  "I  intend  she  shall  give  the 
child  lessons,  as  French  is  so  much  spoken  in 
our  set.  My  mother's  family  were  French, 


A    CONTEST.  229 

and,  though  she  married  an  American,  we  have 
always  kept  about  the  same  circle  of  acquaint- 
ance. I  presume  Rose  will  acquire  it  easily 
enough.  What  do  you  say,  Hose  ?  Will  you 
come  to  New  Orleans  with  me,  and  be  my  little 
girl?" 

"I  am  papa's  and  mamma's  little  girl,"  said 
Rosy.  "  I  cannot  belong  to  any  one  else.  Papa 
would  not  know  what  to  do  without  me : — 
would  you,  papa?" 

"  No,  my  dear.  I  should  feel  lost  indeed 
without  my  little  daughter,"  replied  Mark. 

"  But  he  is  not  your  own  papa,  Rosy,"  said 
Miss  Brush,  with  a  darkening  brow,  but 
plainly  putting  a  great  constraint  upon  herself. 
"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campion  are  not  in  the  least 
related  to  you,  while  I  am  your  own  aunt, — 
your  own  father's  sister ;  and  you  were  born  in 
my  house." 

"Was  I?"  asked  Rosy,  innocently.  "Why 
didn't  you  keep  me  in  your  house,  then,  Aunt 
Adela?"  Miss  Brush's  eyes  shot  fire;  but 
Rosy  continued,  unconscious  of  offence  : — "  I 
was  in  the  hospital  when  mamma  found  me : — 
wasn't  I,  mamma  ?  We  went  up  and  saw  the 
Sister  that  used  to  take  care  of  Mamma  Daisy, 
and  I  carried  her  some  flowers  from  my  garden. 


230  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

She  is  such  a  nice  woman,  Aunt  Adela,  only 
she  wears  such  a  funny  thing  on  her  head." 

"But,  Rosy,  if  you  come  and  live  with  me 
you  will  be  very  rich,"  continued  Miss  Brush. 
"You  will  have  a  fine  carriage  and  horses,  and 
a  pony,  perhaps,  and  a  maid  of  your  own  to 
dress  you  every  day." 

"I  can  dress  myself,"  said  Rosy,  rather  in- 
dignantly. "  I  have  dressed  myself  this  whole 
year,— ever  since  little  brother  was  born.  My 
papa  is  rich  enough  to  get  me  all  I  want;  and, 
if  he  wasn't,  I  would  never  go  away  from 
him  and  mamma, — not  if  they  were  as  poor  as 
old  Aunt  Phebe, — never!" 

"  Listen  to  me,  Rose,"  said  Miss  Brush, 
sharply.  "  You  belong  to  me,  and  I  intend  to 
have  you,  at  all  events.  If  you  come  with  a 
good  grace,  so  much  the  better  for  you.  I 
shall  not  promise  to  spoil  you,  as  these  people 
have  done,  but  I  shall  educate  you  properly; 
and  if  you  give  me  satisfaction,  I  shall  provide 
for  you  at  my  death.  Now,  be  reasonable :  for- 
get that  you  have  any  other  friends,  and  make 
up  your  mind  to  come  with  me.  It  will  be 
better  for  all  parties  that  intercourse  should 
cease,  at  least  for  some  years,"  she  continued, 
speaking  to  Mark.  "  I  wish  the  child  to 


A    COM'JBST.  231 

forget  that  she  has  ever  been  any  thing  else 
but  a  Southerner." 

Rosy  took  refuge  between  her  father's  knees ; 
and  the  temper  natural  to  her  as  to  Kitty,  but 
rarely  seen  of  late  years,  flashed  out. 

"  I  am  not  your  little  girl,  and  I  will  never 
go  with  you!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  love  papa 
and  mamma,  and  I  belong  to  them.  Dear 
Mamma  Daisy  gave  me  to  them;  and  I  will 
never  go  away  from  them,  with  you  or  any- 
body,— not  if  I  were  to  have  all  the  carriages 
and  all  the  money  in  the  world." 

"  Very  well,  miss,"  said  Miss  Brush,  grow- 
ing pale  with  rage.  "  You  do  credit  to  your 
refif/ious  instruction,  I  must  say.  I  shall  find 
means  to  tame  that  temper  of  yours  before 
many  days,  I  promise  you.  Mr.  Campion,  do 
you  intend  to  give  me  possession  of  my  brother's 
child  peaceably,  or  must  I  take  legal  means  to 
recover  my  rights  ?" 

"  Go  to  Rebecca,  my  dear,"  said  Mark, 
speaking  to  Rosy.  "I  will  go  with  you."  He 
left  the  room  for  a  few  minutes,  and  presently 
returned  without  the  child.  "  Xow,  to  reply 
to  your  questions  once  for  all,  as  you  say,  Miss 
Brush,"  said  he,  seating  himself  deliberately. 

"  Well?"  returned  the  lady,  sharply. 

20 


232  THE   TWIN   HOSES. 

"Well,"  said  Mark,  "I  do  not  intend  to  give 
you  possession  of  your  brother's  child,  either 
peaceably  or  in  any  other  way.  We  adopted 
her  for  our  own,  at  a  time  when  she  had  no 
better  prospect  before  her  than  an  almshouse 
or  an  orphan-asylum.  If  you  ever  had  any 
moral  right,  you  have  forfeited  it  by  your  long 
neglect;  and  as  to  legal  right,  you  have  none 
whatever.  I  have  taken  care  of  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?" 

"  I  mean,"  returned  Mark,  with  extra  de- 
liberation, "that,  foreseeing  some  such  difficulty 
as  that  which  has  arisen,  at  the  time  we 
adopted  Rosy  I  caused  writings  to  be  drawn 
up,  by  which  the  custody  of  the  child  was 
secured  to  me.  Rosy  is  regularly  apprenticed 
to  me  till  the  age  of  twenty-one  years.  The 
indenture  is  signed  by  her  mother,  and  wit- 
nessed by  the  clergyman  and  physician  who 
attended  her  during  her  illness.  So,  you  see, 
your  claim  of  relationship  goes  for  nothing." 

Miss  Brush  was  speechless  with  rage. 

"  Moreover,  I  must  tell  you  another  thing," 
continued  Mark,  "  the  knowledge  of  which  I 
would  gladly  have  spared  you  if  you  had  been 
a  little  more  reasonable.  At  Daisy's  request, 
both  my  wife  and  myself  pledged  ourselves,  in 


A   CONTEST.  233 

the  most  solemn  manner,  that,  whatever  be- 
came of  Rose,  she  should  never,  on  any  pretext 
whatever,  be  put  into  your  hands;  and  she 
gave  as  a  reason  for  requiring  this  pledge 
your  cruel  treatment  of  her  while  she  was 
under  your  roof  and  dependent  upon  you. 
So,  you  see,  we  are  doubly  bound." 

"  Mighty  well,  sir/'  said  Miss  Brush,  find- 
ing her  voice;  "but  if  you  think  you  are  going 
to  turn  me  from  my  purpose  by  any  such  trick, 
you  are  mistaken.  I  shall  have  legal  advice 
on  the  matter." 

"  Very  well,  madam.  You  can  do  so ;  but 
I  warn  you  that  you  will  gain  nothing  except 
a  bill  of  costs." 

"  Where  is  the  child  ?  I  demand  to  see  her 
alone." 

"  She  has  gone  out  for  the  day,"  said  Vero- 
nica. "  I  preferred  having  her  out  of  hearing." 
And, -indeed,  Becky  had  taken  Rosy  round  to 
the  Old  Ladies'  Home,  and  left  her  under  Miss 
Brown's  guardianship,  with  a  strict  injunction 
not  to  stir  out  of  doors. 

"  I  suppose  you  call  that  a  lady-like  pro- 
ceeding?" 

"  Perfectly,"  returned  Veronica,  calmly. 

Miss  Brush  took  two  or  three  turns  across 


234  THE   TWIN    KOSES. 

the  room.  She  was  evidently  considerably 
nonplussed. 

"  See  here,"  said  she,  finally.  "  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  take  so  much  pains  about 
this  matter,  but  I  am  not  used  to  be  defeated 
when  I  once  take  a  project  in  hand.  Give  me 
this  child  quietly,  without  more  ado,  and  I  will 
pay  you  down  five  thousand  dollars." 

Mark's  eye  began  to  kindle  dangerously. 
"It  is  a  large  sum  to  pay; — much  more  than 
you  could  get." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Miss  Brush. 
"  You  do  not  suppose  I  intend  to  sell  the 
child  ?" 

"  As  you  seem  to  expect  me  to  sell  her,  I 
sec  nothing  unreasonable  in  the  supposition," 
replied  Mark.  "But  you  may  dismiss  all 
thought  of  such  a  speculation.  Rosy  is  not  in 
the  market." 

"Well,  I  have  learned  something,",  said 
Miss  Brush.  "  I  always  supposed  some  men 
would  sell  any  thing." 

"You  may  possibly  learn  something  else," 
said  Mark,  erecting  his  tall  figure;  "and  that 
is,  that  there  are  some  insults  which  a  man  will 
not  endure  even  from  a  woman.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  order  you  out  of  my  house;  but " 


A   CONTEST.  235 

"  You  may  save  yourself  the  trouble,  Mark 
Campion,"  returned  Miss  Brush,  also  rising. 
"  I  shall  leave  your  house  as  soon  as  possible; 
but  it  will  be  to  seek  a  legal  remedy.  I  do 
not  propose  to  give  up  so  easily.  Where  is 
the  child  ?" 

"  I  do  not  see,  exactly,  how  that  is  any  con- 
cern of  yours,  madam." 

"  I  wish  to  see  her  again." 

"  I  see  nothing  which  would  be  gained  by 
another  interview.  She  has  been  made  suffi- 
ciently uncomfortable  already.  I  do  not  wish 
her  nerves  to  be  further  tried.  Come,  Miss 
Brush,  be  reasonable.  I  can  sympathize  so 
far  in  your  disappointment  as  to  make  great 
allowances  for  you;  but  what  you  ask  is  as 
entirely  out  of  the  question  as  if  you  had 
asked  me  for  a  piece  of  my  own  heart.  Be 
advised:  give  up  your  present  plan,  seek  out 
some  orphan  or  destitute  girl,  and  make  a 
happy  home  for  her " 

"  I  want  none  of  your  preaching.  Am  I  to 
see  the  child  again,  or  not?" 

"  Not  at  present,"  said  Mark. 

"  Very  well.  I  shall  say  no  more :  only,  you 
may  rest  assured  of  one  thing,  you  have  not 
done  Rose  any  good.  She  will  be  none  the 

20* 


236  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

better  off  with  me  for  the  way  in  which  you 
have  treated  me  and  taught  her  to  regard  me  : 
I  can  tell  you  that." 

Mark  made  no  reply. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  send  your  servant  for  a 
carriage/'  continued  Miss  Brush,  with  freezing 
loftiness  of  manner,  "and  inform  me  what  I 
am  to  pay  for  my  board  and  lodging." 

"  I  will  send  in  the  bill  as  soon  as  I  have 
time  to  make  it  out,"  replied  Mark,  relapsing 
into  his  usual  manner.  "My  love,  will  you 
send  Nelly  for  a  carriage  ?" 

The  carriage  was  brought,  and  Miss  Brush 
departed,  shaking  off  the  dust  from  her  feet. 
She  lost  no  time  in  fulfilling  her  threat  of  seek- 
ing legal  advice.  Fortunately  for  her,  the 
lawyer  to  whom  she  went  was  an  honest  man, 
and  above  making  business  for  himself.  He 
looked  at  the  papers,  and  talked  with  Rosy 
herself  alone,  and  ended  by  assuring  Miss 
Brush  that  she  had  no  remedy. 

"  If  the  child  was  unhappy  or  ill  treated,  or 
if  she  wished  herself  to  go  with  you,  something 
might  perhaps  be  done;  but  she  is  so  clearly 
well  off,  and  manifests  such  a  degree  of  fear 
and  horror  at  the  very  thought  of  going  away 
with  you,  that  I  see  nothing  but  to  let  her 


A    CONTEST.  237 

.stay  where  she  is^unless  Mr.  Campion  can  be 
persuaded  to  forego  his  claim." 

"That  I  shall  never  do,"  said  Mark.  "It 
is  useless  to  think  of  it.  Were  I  to  do  so,  I 
should  violate  the  most  solemn  pledge  that  a 
man  can  give." 

Miss  Brush  was  silent.  She  sat  for  a  few 
minutes.  "  Then  I  go  back  as  rich  as  I  came," 
said  she,  at  last,  while  something  like  a  tear 
glistened  in  her  hard  eye.  "  Come  here  to 
me,  child." 

"  Go,  my  love,"  said  Mark,  as  Rosy  hesi- 
tated. "  Go  and  kiss  Aunt  Adela." 

Adela  again  took  Rosy's  hands,  and  gazed 
at  her  long  and  earnestly.  "  So  you  will  not 
come  with  Aunt  Adela?"  said  she.  "You  will 
leave  her  to  go  back  all  alone  to  her  lonely 
house,  with  no  one  to  care  for  her,  while  you 
stay  with  these  people,  who  are  no  relation  to 
you  ?" 

Rosy  looked  distressed.  "  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you,  Aunt  Adela,"  said  she.  "  I  can't  leave 
my  papa  and  mamma  and  dear  little  brother 
Johnny ;  but  I  will  write  to  you,  Aunt  Adela. 
I  can  write  letters  now.  Shall  I,  papa?" 

"  Surely,  my  dear,  if  Aunt  Adela  wishes  it." 

"No,"  said  Miss   Brush,  abruptly:   "what 


238  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

would  be  the  use?  Better  ite-get  all  about  her, 
if  I  can."  She  still  held  the  child  and  looked 
at  her;  then,  disengaging  one  hand,  she  took 
from  her  side  a  very  handsome  gold  watch,  with 
its  accompanying  chain  and  trinkets.  "Here, 
child,  take  this,  and,  when  you  are  old  enough, 
wear  it.  There,  now:  go  to  your  mother." 

She  kissed  Rosy  two  or  three  times,  and 
then  set  her  down. 

"  I  may  as  wej^jgo,"  said  she.  "  Mark  Cam- 
pion, I  believe  you  have  done  what  you 
thought  right.  You  have  treated  me  with 
more  forbearance  than  perhaps  I  had  a  right 
to  expect.  Veronica,  I  thank  you  for  your 
hospitality.  Good-morning." 

Miss  Brush  threw  herself  back  in  the  car- 
riage, and  said  nothing  for  some  minutes. 

"  So  ends  my  dream,"  said  she.  "  I  was  a 
fool  to  entertain  it." 

"  Mark  Campion  is  a  singular  person,"  said 
the  lawyer.  "  Many  people  think  him  a  mau 
of  no  force  of  character,  because  he  is  so  gentle 
and  easy  in  his  manners  and  so  ready  to  give 
up  to  others;  but  touch  him  upon  the  side  of 
principle,  and  you  might  as  well  try  to  over- 
turn that  court-house.  But  did  not  your  sister- 
in-law  leave  another  daughter?" 


THE   CONTEST.  239 

"  I  understood  the  other  child  died." 
"  I  think  not.  She  was  adopted  by  Mr. 
John  Campion,  and  was  certainly  alive  a  year 
ago.  I  distinctly  recollect  seeing  her  at  John 
Campion's  funeral.  I  never  saw  a  child  of 
her  age  show  such  deep  grief." 

"And  where  is  Mrs.  John  Campion  ?" 
"She  is,  or  was  lately,  in  New  York.     She 
removed  thither  after  the  death  of  her  husband, 
in  order  to  be  near  her  own  friends.     She  was 
a  Miss  Holley." 
•     "Not  Anne  Holley?" 

"Yes:  I  think  her  name  is  Anne." 
"I    remember    Rose    spoke    of   her    aunt 
Anne,"  said  Miss  Brush. 

"Anne  Holley!  That  is  another  matter. 
Can  you  find  out  her  address  for  me  ? — quietly, 
you  understand." 

"  Easily,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  It  is  only  to 
ask  Mr.  Clarendon,  Mr.  Campion's  executor." 

"  Do  so,  then,  at  once.  Anne  Holley  !"  re- 
peated Miss  Brush,  again.  "That  is  quite 
another  thing."  . 


240 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

KITTY. 

ends  the  war  of  the  Rose, — not 
the  war  of  the  Roses,"  said  Mark. 
"I  am  glad  she  went  away  feel- 
ing more  kindly  towards  us." 

"  I  cannot  help  being  very  sorry 
for  her,"  returned  Veronica. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  should 
help  it,  my  love.  She  is  much  to  be  pitied, 
and  not  the  less  that  her  present  position  is  in 
a  great  measure  her  own  fault.  As  Rosy  says, 
she  should  have  kept  her  when  she  had  her." 
"  I  wonder  why  she  didn't/'  said  Rosy. 
"Papa,  was  I  really  born  in  her  house?" 

"Yes,  my  dear.  As  Nelly  says,  there  is  a 
story  to  it, — a  story  which  I  do  not  care  about 
telling  you  at  present." 

"  But  it  wras  kind  in  her  to  give  me  this 
beautiful  watch,"  said  Rosy,  who  liked  to  think 
well  of  every  one.  "See,  mamma:  it  is  a  great 


KITTY.  241 

deal  handsomer  than  Aunt  Anne's.  See  all 
this  green  on  the  back,  and  these  little  shining- 
stones.  .  Isn't  that  a  letter,  mamma  ?" 

"Yes, — the  letter  B.  It  is  indeed  a  splen- 
did present,"  said  Veronica,  admiring  the 
watch,  which  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
its  kind. 

"  I  wish  I  could  wear  it,"  said  Rosy. 

"Little  girls  do  not  wear  watches;  but  you 
may  have  it  in  your  room  and  keep  it  going. 
1  will  lend  you  my  beautiful  china  watch- 
stand  with  the  glass  shade ;  and  you  may  wear 
the  chain  sometimes,  to  remember  Aunt  Adela. 
Poor  thing!  I  wish  we  could  have  done  some- 
thing for  her." 

"  If  you  could  only  have  persuaded  her  to 
adopt  one  of  the  children  at  the  '  Home,' "  said 
Mark,  smiling.  "  That  would  have  been  kill- 
ing two  birds  with  one  stone." 

"I  am  afraid  it  would  be  killing  in  good 
earnest,"  said  Veronica.  "  Unless  she  is  more 
altered  than  I  have  any  reason  to  believe,  I 
should  not  like  to  be  the  one  who  should  put 
an  orphan  child  into  her  hands.  By  the  way, 
was  it  not  odd  that  she  should  have  said  no- 
thing at  all  of  Kitty  ?  She  can  hardly  have 
forgotten  the  child's  existence." 
U. 


212  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  Becky  told  me  that,  from  some  words  she 
let  fall  to  her,  she  thinks  Miss  Brush  believes 
the  child  dead,"  said  Mark.  "Becky .did  not 
undeceive  her, — for  which  I  am  not  sorry." 

"You  surely  cannot  imagine  that  Anne 
would  let  Kitty  go?"  asked  Veronica. 

"Hardly;  but  Miss  Brush  might  cause  her 
a  great  deal  of  annoyance,  especially  as  Kitty 
is  so  discontented  with  her  present  position. 
The  poor  child  is  fully  persuaded  that  all  her 
troubles  arise  from  the  fact  that  Anne  is  not 
her  own  mother." 

"Well,  I  cannot  help  being  glad  Aunt 
Adela  lias  gone,"  said  Rosy.  "I  felt  all  the 
time  as  if  she  would  carry  me  off  before  I  knew 
it.  I  was  afraid  to  go  out  and  pick  up  Mrs. 
Grimes's  ball  when  it  fell  out  of  the  window, 
that  day  I  was  at  the  Home." 

It  soon  appeared  that  the  shock  to  Rosy's 
nerves  had  been  a  more  serious  one  than  any- 
body supposed  at  the  time.  She  had  always 
been  a  remarkably  fearless  child ;  but  she  now 
became  afraid  to  sleep  alone,  afraid  to  go  out 
by  herself,  or  even  to  stay  alone  in  the  next 
room  to  her  mother.  She  was  tormented  by 
alarming  dreams,  and  showed  a  tendency  to 
nervous  twitches  and  starts,  which  frightened 


KITTY.  243 

Veronica.  She  consulted  Dr.  Woodman,  and 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  circumstances. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  giving  the  child  medi- 
cine," said  he.  "  What  she  wants  is  a  diversion. 
Give  her,  if  possible,  an  entire  change  of  air 
and  scene :  take  a  long  journey,  or  go  to  the 
sea-side  with  her.  Any  thing  to  break  up 
associations  and  give  her  new  ideas.  Don't 
let  her  sleep  or  stay  alone,  if  she  is  timid  about 
it.  Let  her  have  a  light  in  her  room,  if  she 
wants  one,  and  somebody  to  sit  with  her  till 
she  goes  to  sleep.  You  need  not  be  afraid  of 
spoiling  her." 

"I  am  not,"  said  Veronica,  smiling.  "I 
do  not  think  well-governed  children  are  easily 
spoiled  by  indulgence.  Do  you  think  it  well 
to  talk  to  her  about  the  unreasonableness  of 
her  fears  ?" 

"  I  should  say  not.  Better  let  her  forget 
them  if  she  can.  It  is  not  her  judgment  that 
wants  convincing,  but  her  nerves  that  need 
putting  to  rights.  I  don't  think  any  perma- 
nent mischief  has  been  done  yet;  but  it  would 
be  very  easy  to  do  a  great  deal.  One  fright 
such  as  might  be  given  her  by  putting  her  to 
sleep  alone  and  in  the  dark,  and  her  health,  and 
very  probably  her  mind,  are  ruined  forever." 


244  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"I  would  never  subject  any  child  to  such 
discipline/'  said  Veronica.  "I  think  it  bar- 
barous in  the  extreme.  I  have  too  vivid  a 
.  recollection  of  the  terrors  of  my  own  childhood, 
to  trifle  with  the  fears  of  a  child." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  the  children  you 
have  to  deal  with,"  said  the  doctor.  "To 
hear  a  great  many  people  talk,  and  see  the  way 
they  deal  with  children,  one  would  think  they 
had  come  into  the  world  full-grown,  in  a  state 
of  sinless  perfection,  and  having  all  the  arts 
and  sciences  at  their  fingers'  ends.  Such  peo- 
ple always  expect  children  to  behave  much 
better  than  they  feel  any  call  to  do  them- 
selves." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  doctor's  plan, 
Mark?"  asked  Veronica,  as  she  "repeated  it  to 
him.  "Can  we  compass  it,  do  you  think? 
You  know  it  will  involve  taking  the  baby  and 
Becky;  and  that  will  be  an  expensive  pro- 
ceeding." 

"We  must  compass  it;  and  so  we  will  con- 
clude that  we  can,"  said  Mark.  "  I  think  the 
change  will  be  good  for  all  of  us.  Suppose, 
how  we  are  about  it,  we  make  a  bold  plunge, 
and  take  Johnny  and  Rosy  down  to  Maine  to 
see  Grandmamma  Speedwell?  She  has  never 


KITTY  245 

seen  either  of  the  children,  and  we  have  made 
her  but  one  short  visit  since  our  marriage. 
That  will  combine  the  advantages  of  the  long 
journey,  -the  entire  change,  and  the  sea-side, 
and  Rosy  will  find  so  many  new  aunts,  uncles, 
and  cousins  that  she  will  forget  poor  Aunt 
Adela." 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much  indeed,  if  you 
think  it  prudent,"  said  Veronica.  "Dear 
grandmamma  is  eighty-four  years  old ;  and, 
hale  and  vigorous  as  she  is,  I  always  feel  as 
though  every  summer  might  be  her  last." 

"  Then  we  may  consider  the  plan  as  settled, 
— at  least  as  far  as  it  can  be  without  consulting 
Becky.  We  must  take  her  into  our  counsels." 

Becky  consented  to  the  plan,  with  no  more 
than  the  expected  amount  of  grumbling  and 
objection-making.  It  was  plain  that  whatever 
was  done  for  Rosy  must  be  done  quickly;  for 
the  child  was  losing  strength  and  flesh  every 
day.  In  the  course  of  a  week  Aunt  Phebe 
Ray  was  established  as  housekeeper  in  South 
Avenue,  and  the  whole  family  wore  on  their 
way,  by  easy  stages,  to  the  small  village  upon 
the  coast  of  Maine,  where  Grand  mamma  Speed- 
well was  spending  the  happy  and  peaceful 
remnant  of  her  life,  the  centre  of  a  large  and 


246  THE    TWIN    EOSES. 

loving    circle  of  children  and  grandchildren, 
down  to  the  third  generation. 

The  excellent  author  of  those  not-half-appre- 
ciated books,  "  The  Week"  and  "  A  Peep  at 
my  Neighbours,"  somewhere  remarks  that  no 
person  can  be  an  old  disciple  without  having 
first  been  a  young  disciple.  Grandmamma 
Speedwell  was  an  old  disciple  of  more  than 
seventy  years'  standing.  She  had  given  her- 
self to  God  so  early  in  life  that  she  could 
hardly  remember  when  she  did  not  love  him, 
and  through  all  her  long  and  varied  pilgrimage, 
through  storm  and  sunshine,  light  and  dark- 
ness, she  had  lived  to  him  with  a  single-hearted 
steadfastness  of  purpose  which  had  saved  her 
many  of  the  pangs  and  conflicts  endured  by 
half-hearted  Christians, — those  who  are  always 
striving  to  get  as  much  of  the  world  as  is  con- 
sistent with  serving  God  at  all.  She  had 
received  a  good  education,  to  begin  with,  and 
she  had  never  permitted  her  mind  to  rust, — 
never  allowed  herself  to  think  that  she  was  too 
old  to  interest  herself  in  any  thing  which  in- 
terested others.  At  eighty-four  she  was  still 
in  possession  of  all  her  faculties,  and  the  chosen 
friend  and  confidant  of  all  the  younger  people 
about  luv,  from  the  .son  who  commanded  a 


KITTY.  217 

mighty  East-Indiaman,  to  the  great-grandson 
who  was  making  his  first  venture  in  naviga- 
tion with  a  chip  and  a  feather ;  and  for  all  she 
had  intelligent  sympathy,  encouragement,  and 
comfort  under  trouble. 

The  Speedwell  family  for  generations  had 
taken  to  the  water  like  ducklings,  and  their 
houses  were  depositories  of  all  sorts  of  marine 
curiosities  and  foreign  productions,  especially 
from  China  and  the  Indies.  Among  these 
Rosy  wandered  at  will,  admiring,  questioning, 
hearing  from  uncles  and  great-uncles  wonder- 
ful legends  of  sea  and  land,  and  loaded  with  pre- 
sents and  curiosities.  The  third  generation  of 
Speedwells  ran  mostly  to  boys;  and,  Rosy 
being  the  only  little  girl  of  the  tribe,  she  was 
petted  and  caressed  in  a  way  that  would  have 
been  ruinous  to  a  less  thoroughly  disciplined 
child.  Even  Rosy  was  sometimes  thrown  a 
little  off' her  balance,  and  showed  signs  of  wil- 
ful ness  and  self-conceit  which  had  seldom  been 
seen  in  her  before. 

"  Xever  mind,  my  dear,"  said  Grandmamma 
Speedwell,  to  whom  Veronica  was  regretting 
some  of  these  manifestations.  "  It  is  no 
more  than  was  to  be  expected.  You  cannot 
alwavs  keep  the  child  in  a  glass  case.  Sooner 


248  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

or  later  she  must  go  out  into  the  world  and 
meet  the  world's  temptations.  All  you  can 
do  is  to  correct  the  faults  as  they  appear ;  and 
caution  is  necessary  even  in  that,  lest  in  root- 
ing up  one  fault  you  may  plant  others  which 
will  be  worse  than  the  first.  Such  corrections 
sometimes  turn  out  like  Nathan's  weeding  in 
his  father's  young  strawberry-bed  the  other 
day.  He  got  up  all  the  weeds,  without  doubt: 
only,  he  weeded  up  all  the  strawberry-plants  as 
well." 

"If  one  could  only  have  some  plan  to  guide 
one,"  said  Veronica. 

"  I  know  of  no  plan  which  will  answer  on 
all  occasions,  since  no  two  children  are  alike, 
and  the  same  child  varies  almost  from  hour  to 
hour.  There  are  a  few  great  principles;  but  no 
general  rule  can  be  laid  down  for  their  appli- 
cation, that  I  know  of." 

"And  what  are  those  principles,  grand- 
mamma ?" 

"  Steady,  reasonable  authority,  which  allows 
no  margin  for  fretfulness  and  uncertainty ; 
perfect  sincerity  in  dealing  with  children ;  and 
the  golden  rule  of  doing  to  others  as  you  would 
be  done  by  in  the  same  position.  These,  I 
think,  are  the  great  principles  of  government ; 


KITTY.  249 

but  their  application  must  be  influenced  by 
circumstances." 

"  I  think  that  last  rule — that  of  doing  to 
children  as  you  yourself  would  be  done  by — 
is  one  often  lost  sight  of  by  older  people,"  said 
Veronica.  "  Even  people  who  are  ordinarily 
well  bred  often  seem  to  think  that  the  rules  of 
good  manners  do  not  apply  to  children.  They 
expect  the  child  to  say,  'if  you  please/  and 
'thank  you/  to  them  ;  but  they  never  think  of 
saying  so  to  the  child." 

"  Exactly,"  said  grandmamma,  smiling.  "  I 
noticed  the  involuntary  face  of  disgust  that 
Rosy  made  up,  the  other  day,  when  Aunt 
Eunice  helped  her  to  pudding  with  her  own 
spoon.  Eunice  would  have  sent  one  of  the 
children  away  from  the  table — and  rightly,  too 
— for  such  a  breach  of  good  manners ;  yet  she 
did  it  herself  without  a  thought.  We  see  the 
same  thing  every  day  in  the  way  children's 
amusements  and  possessions  are  interfered  with 
by  their  elders." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Veronica.  "  I  have  con- 
tinually to  stand  between  Rosy  and  Becky  in 
that  respect.  Becky  is  extremely  fond  of  the 
child,  but  her  ruling  passion  is  order.  I  made 
her  understand  very  early  in  our  acquaintance 


250  THE   TWIN    ROSE.S. 

that  she  must  not  interfere  with  Murk's  desk 
or  my  work-basket,  however  untidy  they  might 
appear  in  her  eyes ;  but  every  now  and  then 
comes  a  complaint  from  Rosy  that  Becky  has 
burned  up  all  the  papers  she  had  to  dress  her 
doll  with,  or  hidden  her  box  of  buttons,  or 
put  her  play-drawer  in  order  so  that  she  cannot 
find  any  thing.  Becky  loves  neatness  above 
all  things;  and  she  does  not  comprehend  that 
Rosy's  bits  of  coloured  paper  and  strings  of 
buttons  and  hoards  of  odds  and  ends  are  as 
valuable  to  the  child  as  her  own  piece-bag  and 
multifarious  balls  of  yarn  and  worsted  are  to 
herself." 

"  I  know  of  nothing  which  interferes  more 
entirely  with  the  comfort  of  a  family,  no- 
thing which  is  more  belittling  to  the  person 
concerned,  than  that  same  passion  for  excessive 
neatness,"  said  Grandmamma  Speedwell.  "  We 
used  to  have,  and  indeed  have  still,  an  exempli- 
fication of  the  effect  of  this  mania,  in  the  per- 
son of  old  Mrs.  Moreley — I  don't  know  that 
you  remember  her,  Veronica?" 

" Oh,  yes,"  replied  Veronica.  "I  recollect 
the  reply  her  little  boy  made  when  asked  what 
he  would  do  if  his  mother  died:  '  I'd  go  up 
the  front  stairs  every  day,'  said  he,  promptly." 


KITTY.  251 

"  Exactly ;  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  the 
boy  would  have  looked  upon  his  mother's  death 
as  a  relief.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  Mrs. 
Moreley  has  destroyed  her  influence  over  her 
children,  ruined  the  peace  of  her  family  and  the 
health  of  her  daughters,  and  embittered  the  last 
days  of  her  husband's  life,  by  her  love  of  neat- 
ness and  order.  He  was  one  of  the  loveliest 
and  gentlest  of  Christians ;  but  more  than  once 
I  have  seen  the  colour  rise  to  his  pale  cheeks 
and  the  tears  to  his  eyes  when  scolded  by  his 
wife  for  the  spots  on  his  clothes  and  on  the 
floor,  caused  by  the  food  dropped  from  his 
feeble,  trembling  hands.  The  boys  had  no 
more  use  of  the  house  than  though  they  were 
strangers.  Every  possession  of  theirs,  not  ab- 
solutely necessary,  was,  however  precious  to 
them,  unceremoniously  bundled  into  the  fire. 
No  in-door  amusements  could  be  permitted,  be- 
cause they  littered  up  the  house.  Annie's  eyes 
were  irreparably  ruined,  and  Julia's  spine  in- 
jured for  life,  before  they  were  eighteen, — the 
one  by  sewing  in  a  room  always  darkened  to 
keep  out  the  flies,  the  other  by  scrubbing  and 
carrying  heavy  pails  of  water  while  she  was 
growing  fast.  Mrs.  Morely  has  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  church  for  many  years;  she  dresses 


252  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

in  the  plainest  manner,  and  probably  never 
went  to  a  place  of  amusement .  in  her  life. 
Doubtless  she  would  be  much  surprised  to  be 
told  that  she  is  a  thoroughly  worldly  woman; 
and  yet  her  heart  is  even  now  as  much  bound 
up  in  the  things  of  this  world  as  that  of  any 
fine  lady  who  goes  to  Saratoga  or  Newport 
with  sixty  dresses  in  her  trunks." 

"Where  does  she  live  now?"  asked  Vero- 
nica. 

"Alone  in  her  own  house.  She  has  tried  the 
experiment  of  living  with  each  of  her  children 
in  turn  ;  but  none  of  the  daughters-in-law  are 
neat  enough  for  her,  and  Julia's  husband  will 
not  have  her.  Julia  has  married  well,  and 
has  a  large  family  of  children ;  but  Mr. 
Crosby  declares  that  grandmother  spoils  all 
the  comfort  of  the  household,  and  that  he  will 
not  have  his  children's  temper  ruined  by  her 
perpetual  interference  and  fault-finding.  And 
really,  my  dear,  I  cannot  blame  him." 

With  so  many  objects  to  divert  her  mind, 
and  the  salt  air  and  sea-bathing  to  build  up 
her  body,  Rosy  soon  recovered  from  her  ner- 
vous disorder,  and  was  as  healthy  and  cheerful 
as  ever.  The  family  remained  on  the  coast  till 
the  beginning  of  cool  weather  in  the  fall,  and 


KITTY.  253 

returned  home  by  way  of  New  York,  to  visit 
Anne  and  Kitty. 

Anne  was  still  living  in  her  boarding-house; 
and,  though  she  retained  her  deep  mourning, 
the  crape  and  bombazine  had  assumed  a  cer- 
tain jaunty  air  very  different  from  that  of  their 
earlier  days.  She  received  her  friends  with  a 
curious  mixture  of  cordiality  and  embarrass- 
ment. Kitty  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  Veronica 
naturally  supposed  she  was  at  school. 

"  Will  not  Kitty  be  able  to  take  a  holiday 
while  Rosy  is  here?"  she  asked,  by-and-by. 
"  It  is  a  long  time  since  the  children  have 
been  together." 

The  embarrassment  of  Anne's  manner  in- 
creased :  she  coloured  scarlet,  and  she  seemed 
to  find  a  difficulty  in  replying  to  the  question. 
A  thought  flashed  across  Veronica's  mind,  but 
she  rejected  it  as  absurd,  and  waited,  in  some 
surprise,  for  an  answer. 

"  Why,  I  can't  say,"  stammered  Anne ;  and 
then,  recovering  her  voice,  "  The  fact  is,  Vero- 
nica, Kitty  is  not  with  me  at  present,  and  I 
know  very  little  about  her.  She  has  gone 
South,  to  her  father's  friends." 

"  Not  with  Miss  Brush  ?"  exclaimed  Vero- 
nica, at  once  enlightened,  but  hardly  able  to 


254  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

believe.  You  have  not  let  Adela  Brush 
take  Kitty  home  with  her  ?  Oh,  Anne  !  I 
could  not  have  believed  it." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  that, 
Veronica,"  said  Anne.  "  Adela  was  her  own 
aunt,  and  had  the  best  right  to  her.  She  was 
no  relation  to  me;  and  I  don't  see  why  I  was 
to  be  burdened  with  her  always,  because  I  took 
her  in  when  she  had  nowhere  else  to  go." 

"  Only  that  you  made  a  solemn  promise  to 
her  dying  mother  to  keep  her  as  long  as  she 
lived,  and,  above  all,  never  to  put  her  into  the 
hands  of  Adela  Brush,"  said  Veronica.  "  I 
should  think  you  would  have  remembered  the 
look  and  tone  with  which  poor  Daisy  said, 
'  Bind  her  out  to  a  trade,  send  her  to  an  asylum, 
— do  any  thing  to  her, — rather  than  give  her 
into  the  power  of  her  aunt  Adela.'" 

"No  one  minds  promises  to  sick  people," 
said  Anne.  "One  treats  them  like  children : — 
any  thing  to  keep  them  quiet.  Adela  con- 
vinced me  that  Daisy's  version  of  the  story  was 
altogether  exaggerated,  if  not  false." 

"  You  know  Adela  of  old  to  be  such  a 
truthful  person!"  said  Veronica,  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  well,  no  doubt  she  has  improved  since 
then.  And,  besides,  to  tell  you  the  plain 


KITTY.  255 

truth,  Kitty  had  grown  so  naughty  and  dis- 
agreeable that  there  was  no  living  with  her, — at 
least,  I  could  not  live  with  her, — and  J  was 
glad  to  turn  her  over  to  some  one  with  more 
authority.  I  am  sure  the  annoyance  and 
mortification  I  have  suffered  with  that  child, 
no  one  would  believe.  Theve  was  no  trusting 
her  out  of  sight.  She  would  promise  in  the 
most  serious  way  to  go  straight  to  school,  and 
then  I  would  find  out  that  she  had  l>ee-n  plav- 
ing  in  the  street  all  the  morning." 

Veronica  remembered  Anne's  principle, 
"Nobody  minds  a  promise  to  a  child." 

"She  would  not  mind  me  ia  the  least,"  con- 
tinued Anne.  "  I  might  call  her  a  dozen 
times,  and  she  would  never  conje  till  I  had 
my  hands  upon  her.  She  regularly  answered 
me  back  when  I  reproved  her;  and  if  I  found 
the  least  fault  or  did  any  thing  she  did  not 
like,  the  first  thing  was,  '  I  don't  love  you, 
mamma.  You  are  as  ugly  as  you  can  be.'" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  she  used  to  say  that 
when  she  \vas  only  three  years  old,"  said  Ve- 
ronica, unable  to  suppress  the  remark.  "  I 
told  you  then  such  speeches  would  not  sound 
as  well  when  she  was  nine  or  ten." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course   you   told   me  sn,"  said 

22 


256  THE   TWIN    HOSES. 

Anne,  in  her  old,  peevish  tone.  "  No  doubt 
you  think  it  is  all  the  fault  of  my  manage- 
ment." 

Veronica  did  not  contradict  her.  She  cer- 
tainly did  think  so. 

"Come;  you  may  as  well  have  it  out,"  con- 
tinued Anne,  as  though  determined  to  have  a 
quarrel  at  any  rate.  "  Come ;  say  on.  You 
think  I  have  done  very  wrong." 

"If  you  had  made  up  your  mind  to  cast  off 
the  child  you  had  adopted,  why  did  you  not 
speak  to  me?"  asked  Veronica.  "I  would 
gladly  have  taken  her,  with  all  her  faults  on 
her  head,  rather  than  have  her  delivered  over 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  Adela  Brush." 

"  That  was  just  what  Adela  said,"  retorted 
Anne.  "  She  made  me  promise  not  to  say 
any  thing  to  you  about  the  matter  till  she  was 
gone,  because,  she  said,  you  were  so  prejudiced 
against  her  you  would  give  her  no  peace.  I 
know  you  think  I  am  a  perfect  monster,  Ve- 
ronica :  so  you  might  as  well  say  so." 

"It  will  be  a  terrible  shock  to  Rosy,"  said 
Veronica,  determined  not  to  quarrel  if  she 
could  help  it.  "  She  had  so  counted  on  seeing 
her  sister." 

"  Well,  but  now  tell   me,  Veronica,"  con- 


KITTY.  257 

tinned  Anne,  with  her  old  persistence :  "  do 
you  think  that  I  did  so  very  wrong,  after  all  ?" 

"I  do,"  replied  Veronica.  "Since  you  will 
have  ray  opinion,  Anne,  I  think  you  have 
been  very  wrong.  You  have  been  guilty  of  a 
breach  of  trust." 

Anne  began  to  cry.  "  I  am  sure  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do,"  she  whimpered.  "  I  could 
not  live  with  her  any  longer.  I  suppose  you 
will  say  that  was  my  fault,  too?" 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Veronica.  "  You  spoiled 
her  by  mismanagement,  and  then,  when  the 
mismanagement  produced  its  legitimate  fruits, 
you  turned  her  off.  You  would  not  believe 
me  when  I  told  you  that  you  were  ruining  the 
child  by  allowing  her  to  be  disobedient  and 
impertinent  when  she  was  small,  and  that  the 
same  faults  would  be  intolerable  by-and-by. 
I  must  say,  I  think  you  have  incurred  a  fear- 
ful responsibility,  and  one  that  you  will  have 
to  answer  both  to  the  mother  of  the  child  and 
to  her  Father  in  heaven.  I  cannot  guess  what 
Mark  will  say." 

Anne  was  evidently  very  uncomfortable  in 
her  own  mind.  She  had  yielded  to  the  temp- 
tation to  get  rid  of  Kitty,  led  partly  by  Un- 
real annoyance  she  experienced  from  the  child. 
R 


258  THE   TWIN    JlOSivS. 

partly  by  Miss  Brush's  flatteries, — for,  warned 
by  experience,  Adela  had  gone  to  work  much 
more  skilfully  with  Anne  than  with  Veronica. 
But  her  conscience  had  all  the  time  been 
uneasy,  and  since  Kitty  was  gone  she  had 
missed  her  more  than  she  had  supposed  possi- 
ble. With  all  her  talent  for  self-deception,  she 
could  not  deny  the  truth  of  Veronica's  words; 
and  she  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  get 
Kitty  back  again. 

The  visit  was  an  uncomfortable  one  on  all 
sides.  Mark  could  not  conceal  his  stern 
displeasure, — all  the  more  effective  from  its  con- 
trast to  his  usual  gracious  kindliness.  Rosy 
was  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  her  sister,  and 
Veronica  almost  feared  the  shock  to  her  feel- 
ings would  undo  all  she  had  gained.  She  took 
an  opportunity  to  question  Jane  about  the 
matter. 

"  Did  Kitty  go  willingly  ?" 

"  Well,  ma'am,  she  did  and  she  did  not. 
At  first  she  was  rather  pleased  with  the  notion 
of  going  with  Aunt  Adela;  but  as  soon  as  Miss 
Brush  began  to  try  and  govern  her,  which  sho 
did  directly,  Kitty  began  to  dislike  her." 

"But  at  the  last,  Jane?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  it  was  a  curious  time  as  ever 


KITTY.  259 

I  saw.  You  must  know  that  Mrs.  Campion 
lias  a  great  dread  of  a  scene:  so  she  told  Kitty 
she  was  not  to  go  till  the  next  day,  and  went 
out,  pretending  she  was  going  to  buy  her  some- 
thing. When  the  carriage  came,  Kitty  refused 
to  go  till  mamma  came  home.  Miss  Brush 
laughed,  in  that  hard  way  she  has, — enough  to 
make  one  hate  her,  I  am  sure,  if  there  was  no- 
thing else, — and  told  her  that  mamma,  as  she 
called  her,  had  gone  out  on  purpose  to  get  rid 
of  saying  good-by !  You  never  saw  any 
thing  like  that  child's  face,  ma'am.  She 
stopped  crying  as  if  she  had  been  struck  dumb. 
She  turned  as  pale  as  death,  and  just  walked 
down-stairs  and  got  into  the  carriage  without 
another  word.  Oh,  it  was  a  wicked  thing  to 
send  her  away,  Mrs.  Campion  !  To  be  sure,  she 
was  troublesome, — that  can't  be  denied ;  but 
it  was  the  training  made  her  so.  She  was  as 
good  as  Miss  Rosy  to  begin  with.  And  as  to 
telling  the  truth,  I  don't  know  how  she  was 
to  learn,  when  her  own  mamma  never  told  the 
truth  to  her.  She  didn't,  ma'am.  She  used  to 
promise  things  and  to  threaten  things  that  she 
never  meant  to  do;  and  the  child  soon  found 
her  out." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Veronica. 

22- 


260  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  have  her  go/'  continued 
Jane.  "It  seemed  just  like  selling  her  for  a 
slave.  I  did  take  the  liberty  of  writing  to 
you,  ma'am;  but,  not  knowing  that  you  were 
away,  I  directed  to  Milby." 

"  No  doubt  the  letter  was  sent  on  to  Bay- 
port  after  we  left,"  said  Veronica.  "  I  would 
certainly  have  taken  the  child  myself,  rather 
than  have  her  go  so  far  away  from  us  all. 
But  it  is  done  now,  and  all  we  can  do  to  help 
poor  Kitty  is  to  pray  for  her  to  that  God  who 
is  the  Father  of  the  fatherless  and  the  Friend 
of  the  friendless." 


MISS    BROWN. 


261 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MISS    BROWN. 

HAVE  heard  two  pieces  of  news 
to-day,  Veronica,"  said  Mark,  as 
he  came  in  from  the  garden  and 
put  on  his  dressing-gown  and 
slippers. 

"  Not  very  agreeable  ones,  I  should 
€>   say,  to  judge  from  the  extra  energy  you 
bestowed  upon  the  uprooting  of    those 
beau-vines,"  said  Veronica. 

"Not  altogether,  I  must  confess;  and  yet  I 
have  no  right  to  be  offended, — at  one  of  them, 
I  mean ;  for  the  other  is  entirely  agreeable." 

"  I  know  the  first,  I  am  pretty  sure,"  said 
Veronica. 

"Anne  is  going  to  be  married!" 
"  Precisely,"  replied  Mark,  surprised.    "  But 
how   did    you    know    it?      Is    it    town-talk 
already?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.     I  guessed   it  long 


262  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

ago, — while  we  were  there.  I  don't  mean  thai 
she  was  engaged  then,  but  she  was  thinking 
about  it.  She  showed  it  all  over  her.  But 
who  is  the  happy  man  ?" 

"A  Mr.  Van  Dunker." 

"What  a  name!" 

"  Immensely  aristocratic,  I  assure  you.  He 
is  some  years  younger  than  she  is,  a  young 
1  man  about  town/  and,  to  judge  from  his  pic- 
ture which  she  sent  to  Mr.  Clarendon,  very 
handsome  and  good-natured-looking." 

"And  I  suppose  he  will  spend  all  her  money 
as  fast  as  possible." 

"No:  John  took  care  of  that.  If  she  mar- 
ries again,  she  is  to  have  only  the  income  of 
her  property  for  life,  and  at  her  death  it  is 
divided, — one-half  to  whatever  children  she 
may  have,  the  rest  to  his  own  family." 

"  Some  people  would  wonder  that  you  should 
object  to  the  marriage,  that  being  the  case," 
said  Veronica. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  object,  aside  from  that. 
Anne  is  certainly  old  enough  to  know  her  own 
mind,  and  I  believe  Van  Dunker  is  a  very 
decent  sort  of  young  man,  as  young  men  go; 
but  I  do  think  she  might  have  waited  till  the 
two  years  were  up.  It  seems  an  insult  to  John's 


MISS    BROWN.  26o 

memory.     I  suppose  all  this  accounts  for  her 
willingness  to  dispose  of  poor  Kitty." 

"  Partly,  perhaps,  but  not  altogether.  Anne 
grew  very  tired  of  her  charge,  and  she  had  not 
patience  or  sense  of  duty  to  enable  her  to  bear 
with  the  consequences  of  her  own  mismanage- 
ment. It  was  a  most  cruel  thing.  I  never  can 
think  as  well  of  Anne  as  I  did  before.  I  never 
had  any  great  opinion  of  her  wisdom,  but  I 
did  not  think  her  so  heartless.  She  might  at 
least  have  given  us  the  refusal  of  the  child ; 
but  there  her  jealousy  came  in.  Poor  Kitty!  I 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  know  how  she  gets 
on  in  her  new  home.  I  fear  she  will  have 
some  sad  times.  Adela  has  evidently  high 
notions  of  arbitrary  government,  and  Kitty 
has  never  been  subjected  to  even  a  reasonable 
authority.  But  what  is  your  other  piece  of 
news  ?" 

"Oh,  I  forgot  it!  Miss  Brown's  brother 
has  come  home." 

"  No  !     Not  the  real  East  Indian  nabob  ?" 

"  Even  so :  though  he  does  not  appear  to  me 
to  be  any  great  things  of  a  nabob.  He  seems 
a  plain,  sensible  kind  of  man,  I  should  judge, 
with  some  little  temper  of  his  own,  but  quite 
attractive  in  appearance  and  manners." 


264  THE   TWIN    liOSES. 

"What  account  does  lie  give  of  his  long 
silence?" 

"  He  has  been  up-country,  in  the  indigo  busi- 
ness, living  quite  among  the  natives,  and  sel- 
dom hearing  any  news.  He  says  he  has  written 
and  sent  remittances  to  his  sister  again  and 
again,  but,  hearing  nothing,  he  concluded  she 
was  dead.  At  last  some  chance  took  him  to 
Singapore,  where  he  met  Charley  Stephens 
and  his  wife,  and  they  told  him  his  sister  was 
still  alive  when  they  left  home.  Upon  that 
he  took  a  sudden  start  and  came  home  to  see 
her?  expecting  to  find  her  as  he  left  her, — 
living  in  her  owrn  house  in  comfort.  He  seems 
to  be  greatly  shocked  at  the  state  of  things, 
and,  I  imagine,  treated  Martha  and  her  hus- 
band to  any  thing  but  an  agreeable  scene.  I 
can  readily  conceive  his  wrath  might  be  rather 
terrific." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,  with  all  my  heart !" 
said  Veronica.  "  How  did  you  come  across 
him  ?" 

"He  came  to  the  office  to  see  Clarendon,  and 
found  only  me.  I  remembered  him  on  the 
instant;  for  he  was  one  of  my  heroes  when  I 
was  a  boy,  and  he  has  changed  wonderfully 
little,  all  things  considered.  We  had  a  long 


MISS    BROWN.  265 

talk,  and  I  have  asked  him  to  dinner  to-mor- 
row. I  thought  we  might  have  his  sister  to 
meet  him." 

"To  be  sure  we  will,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Courtland,"  said  Veronica,  heartily.  "  The  doe- 
tor  will  delight  in  him.  I  would  have  given 
something  to  witness  the  scene  between  him 
and  the  Jameses.  I  wonder  what  Miss  Brown 
will  do?" 

"  Oh,  he  has  not  come  home  to  stay.  He 
talks  sensibly  enough  about  that,  I  think.  He 
says  all  his  interests  are  in  India ;  it  is  his 
home,  and  he  has  no  other  intention  than  to 
return  and  end  his  days  there.  His  only  care 
is  about  his  sister.  He  seems  much  distressed 
at  finding  her  the  inmate  of  a  charitable  insti- 
tution, and  talks  of  establishing  her  in  a  home 
of  her  own." 

"  He  had  very  much  better  leave  her  where 
she  is,  in  my  opinion,"  said  Veronica.  "  She 
cannot  be  so  comfortable  anywhere  else." 

"  So  I  told  him  ;  and  he  admitted  that  she 
seemed  very  well  off;  but  it  is  the  charity 
which  seems  to  stick  in  his  throat." 

"And  naturally  enough,  too;  but  it  would 
be  easy  to  obviate  that,"  remarked  Veronica. 
"  He  could  give  what  he  pleased  to  the  Home, 


266  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

on  the  condition  that  it  should  be  considered 
an  equivalent  for  his  sister's  board  and  lodg- 
ing." 

"  There  spoke  all  the  managers  in  one 
breath,"  said  Mark,  laughing. 

"  But  is  it  not  a  good  idea  ?" 

"Seriously,  I  think  it  is,  my  love;  but  of 
course  all  will  depend  on  Miss  Brown's  feel- 
ings. She  may  prefer  a  change." 

"  As  far  as  my  influence  goes,  I  shall  use  it 
to  keep  her  where  she  is.  I  do  hope  Martha 
James  will  not  persuade  her  aunt  to  go  back 
and  live  with  her." 

"  She  will  gain  nothing  if  she  does,"  said 
Mark.  "  Captain  Brown  told  me  he  was 
determined  to  do  nothing  towards  such  an 
arrangement  as  that." 

"  Well,  I  shall  see  her  to-morrow  and  find 
out  all  about  the  matter,"  said  Veronica.  "  I 
must  go  and  tell  Becky." 

"Becky,  did  you  ever  know  Captain  Brown, 
Miss  Brown's  brother,  who  went  to  India  so 
many  years  ago  ?"  Veronica  asked  the  ques- 
tion while  she  was  busy  over  her  preserved 
quinces,  and,  surprised  at  receiving  no  answer, 
she  looked  up.  Becky  was  elaborately  iron- 
ing one  of  Rosy's  white  frocks,  and  did  not 


MISS    BROWN.  267 

seem  to  have  heard.  Veronica  repeated  the 
question. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him,"  said  Becky,  briefly. 
"Why?" 

"  He  has  come  home,"  said  Veronica.  "  Mr. 
Campion  saw  him  to-day,  and  he  is  coming 
here  to-morrow."  She  paused,  astonished  at 
the  effect  of  her  words.  Becky,  who  rarely 
showed  emotion  of  any  kind,  had  dropped  her 
iron,  and  was  leaning  back  against  the  wall,  as 
white  as  the  muslin  under  her  hands.  "Why, 
Becky !"  she  exclaimed.  "  What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Becky,  recovering  her 
composure  with  a  violent  effort.  "  I  am  a  fool : 
that's  all.  Yes,  I  used  to  know  him;  but  I 
dare  say  he  has  forgotten  all  about  me  long 
ago.  Well,  I  might  as  well  tell  you  all  about 
it,"  she  added,  presently.  "  We  kept  company 
once,  before  he  went  away  for  good ;  but  some 
evil  tongues  came  between  us.  He  was  jealous, 
and  I  was  proud;  and  so  we  quarrelled,  and 
there  was  the  end  of  it  all.  It  was  more  my 
fault  than  his:  that  was  one  comfort." 

Veronica  quite  understood  what  Rebecca 
meant.  She  said  no  more,  but  in  her  heart 
she  wondered  whether  it  was  quite  the  end. 
She  made  up  her  mind  that  at  least  it  should 

23 


268  THE    TWIN    HOSES. 

not  be  her  fault  if  Captain  Brown  did  not 
find  out  that  his  old  sweetheart  was  alive  and 
single. 

The  next  morning  she  went  round  to  the 
Home  in  good  season.  As  she  tapped  at  Miss 
Brown's  door,  she  heard  within  a  voice  she 
knew  right  well,  partly  whining,  partly  coax- 
ing. "  So  here  you  are,  my  lady  ?"  said  she  to 
herself.  "  Just  as  I  expected ;  but  you  shall 
not  gain  your  end,  if  I  can  help  it." 

Martha  James  was  planted  in  one  of 'the 
arm-chairs  directly  in  front  of  the  fire,  evi- 
dently considerably  excited.  Miss  Brown  sat 
knitting  in  her  usual  place,  calm  as  usual,  but 
with  a  certain  gentle,  inflexible  expression  about 
her  mouth  which  her  friend  took  for  a  good 
omen.  Veronica  kissed  her,  and  wished  her 

j°y- 

"  Yes,  I  am  greatly  favoured,"  replied  Miss 
Brown.  "  I  had  so  long  ago  given  up  my 
brother  as  dead,  that  he  seems  to  me  like 
one  returned  from  another  world.  I  found 
myself  questioning,  this  morning,  whether  it 
was  not  a  dream,  after  all ;  and  I  did  not  feel 
quite  sure  till  I  saw  Nathan  taking  his  coffee 
opposite  to  me  at  my  own  breakfast-table." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  nice,"  said  Martha.    "  Only, 


MISS    BROWN.  269 

I  do  wish,  as  dear  uncle  has  stayed  away  so 
long,  he  had  just  waited  a  week  or  two  longer, 
till  we  got  aunt  nicely  settled  at  home  again. 
You  see,  Mrs.  Campion,  the  children  are  older 
now,  and  out  of  the  way,  and  we  have  been 
thinking  for  some  time,  Tom  and  I  have, 
how  much  we  should  like  to  have  dear  aunt 
back  again  to  live  with  us.  She  would  be  so 
much  better  off." 

"  I  do  not  at  all  agree  with  you,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  I  think  she  is  much  better  where 
she  is;  and  besides,  Mrs.  James,  what  becomes 
of  the  two  hundred  dollars  you  paid  into  the 
Home?" 

"  I  suppose  they  would  give  it  back,  of 
course." 

"  Not  at  all,  I  assure  you.  Your  aunt  has 
boarded  it  out  long  since." 

Mrs.  James  winced;  but,  after  all,  she  con- 
cluded that  she  must  venture  a  small  fish  to 
catch  a  large  one. 

"  Well,  perhaps  that  is  so;  though  two  hun- 
dred dollars  is  a  great  deal  to  board  out.  But, 
as  I  said,  it  is  a  great  pity  that  we  could  not 
have  had  it  all  arranged  before  uncle  came." 

"  It  certainly  is,"  observed  Veronica,  with  u 
contempt  she  did  uot  try  to  conceal, — "  since 


270  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

some  people  might  say  that,  after  neglecting 
your  aunt  for  eight  years,  you  have  only  taken 
her  up  again  because  her  rich  brother  has  un- 
expectedly turned  up." 

"They  will  have  no  occasion  to  say  any 
such  thing,"  said  Miss  Brown. 

"That's  just  what  I  think,"  interrupted  Mar- 
tha, eagerly.  "  Nobody  but  scandal-mongers 
and  story-tellers  would  ever  think  of  such  a 
thing." 

"  They  will  have  no  occasion,"  pursued  Miss 
Brown,  quietly, — "  simply  for  the  reason  that 
I  have  no  intention  of  making  any  change.  I 
have  been  here,  as  you  say,  Veronica,  for  eight 
years,  and  have  been  treated  with  uniform 
kindness.  I  have  made  friends  whom  I  love. 
I  am  able  to  be  useful  to  others,  especially  to 
the  little  ones  in  the  other  part  of  the  house." 

"  I  am  sure  you  might  be  useful  in  teaching 
my  children,  if  that  is  all,"  again  interrupted 
Martha.  "  That  is  one  of  the  things  wo 
thought  about.  I  mean,"  she  stammered, 
seeing  Veronica  smile,  "  I  meant " 

"  I  understand  you  perfectly,  Martha,"  said 
Miss  Brown.  "  But  my  mind  is  made  up.  I 
shall  never  move  again,  unless  the  shelter  of 
this  roof  should  be  denied  me.  I  have  told 


MISS   BROWN.  271 

ray  brother  of  my  decision ;  and,  after  talking 
it  over,  he  quite  approves  of  it.  As  to  your 
children,  I  can  do  them  quite  as  much  good 
here  as  in  your  own  house,  and  probably  more, 
since  when  I  have  them  by  themselves  I  am 
able  to  control  them,  which  I  could  never  do 
at  home.  There  is  no  use  in  saying  any  more, 
Martha,"  she  continued,  as  Martha  opened  her 
lips  to  reply.  "  I  came  here  to  please  you,  but 
1  remain  to  please  myself." 

"  And  you  are  right,"  said  Veronica.  "  I 
am  very  glad  you  have  decided  so  wisely,  and 
that  your  brother  sees  it  as  you  do." 

"  Just  like  you,  Mrs.  Campion! — always  in- 
terfering !"  said  Martha,  beginning  to  cry.  "  It 
is  too  bad!  and  when  I  have  told  ever  so  many 
people,  too,  that  aunt  wras  coming  back  to  live 
with  us  ;  and  Tom  has  gone  down  town  to 
buy  new  paper  and  carpets  and  all,  he  was  so 
sure." 

"  You  should  not  have  been  in  such  a  hurry 
(o  count  your  chickens,"  said  Veronica. 

"  Martha,  not  another  word,"  said  Miss 
Brown  ;  "  at  least,  not  upon  this  subject.  I 
heartily  wish  you  had  never  brought  it  up, 
both  for  your  sake  and  mine;  but  say  no  more. 

Rest  assured  that  I  shall  always  be  ready  to  do 
23« 


272  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

all  in  my  power  to  help  you  and  your  chil- 
dren ;  but  this  I  cannot  and  will  not  do.  Say 
no  more." 

"  I  shall  say  what  I  please,"  retorted  Mar- 
tha. "  I  will  never  give  it  up  till  I  tease  you 
into  it," 

"  If  that  is  your  determination,  I  shall  give 
orders  not  to  have  you  admitted,"  said  Vero- 
nica. "I  will  not  have  your  aunt  disturbed 
by  any  such  importunity." 

"  We  shall  see,"  retorted  Martha,  with  a  toss 
of  her  head.  "You  a'n't  the  only  person  in 
the  world,  Mrs.  Campion, — if  your  husband  did 
write  a  book." 

Veronica  only  laughed;  and  Martha  finally 
took  her  departure. 

"You  do  not  know  how  glad  I  am  to  find 
you  so  decided  in  this  matter,"  said  Veronica. 
"  I  was  very  much  afraid  you  would  be  per- 
suaded to  go  away ;  and  I  do  not  feel  as  though 
we  could  spare  you  from  the  Home." 

"  I  shall  never  leave  the  Home,  so  long  as  I 
am  permitted  to  remain  here,"  replied  Miss 
Brown.  "  It  has  been  indeed  a  Home  to  me. 
For  Martha's  own  sake,  I  would  not  go  to  live 
with  her.  I  know  how  soon  it  would  be  the 
old  story  over  again.  Moreover,  I  can  be  more 


MISS    BROWX.  273 

useful  to  the  children  here  than  though  I  lived 
in  the  house  with  them.  At  home  they  ai'e 
utterly  ungoverned.  They  used  to  invade  my 
room  at  all  hours,  and  any  attempt  on  my  part 
to  control  them  was  always  bitterly  resented  by 
their  mother,  and  visited  upon  me  in  a  way  to 
make  me  miserable  for  days  together.  Here  in 
my  own  home  I  can  entertain  them  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  it  agreeable  for  them  to  come, 
and  the  being  sent  home  is  a  penalty  they  do 
not  like  to  incur:  so  I  can  keep  them  in  very 
good  order.  It  is  singular  how  much  more 
they  think  of  me,  now  that  I  am  in  a  position 
to  command  their  respect." 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Veronica.  "  Is  not  the 
oldest  girl  in  rather  a  bad  way  as  regards 
health?  I  see  her  in  Sunday-school;  and  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  notice  those  pink-and- 
white  cheeks  and  clear  eyes  upon  any  child  of 
mine." 

"  She  is  being  regularly  sacrificed, — killed 
by  inches  !"  said  Miss  Brown,  sighing.  "Jenny 
was  allowed  to  run  wild  till  she  was  about  thir- 
teen. She  was  never  taught  to  work,  or  to 
employ  herself  in  any  way  within-doors,  but 
permitted  to  run  as  much  as  she  pleased  out 
of  school:  indeed,  she  almost  grew  up  in  the 


•274  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

street.  Her  lessons  in  school  were  a  mere  farce ; 
as  how  could  they  be  otherwise,  when  we  con- 
sider that  there  were  in  her  school-room  no  less 
than  sixty  little  children  from  six  to  ten  years 
old  ?  At  twelve  she  could  not  read  as  well  as 
your  Rosy  did  when  she  was  six.  Well,  about 
two  years  ago  Martha  and  Tom  all  at  once 
woke  up  to  the  fact  that  Jenny  was  a  dunce, 
— that  she  was  learning  nothing  at  school,  and 
was  of  less  than  no  use  at  home.  Then,  on  a 
sudden,  all  was  changed.  Jenny  was  withdrawn 
from  the  public  school  and  sent  to  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin's, where  she  was  loaded  with  as  many  les- 
sons as  that  lady  could  be  persuaded  to  give 
her,  besides  music-lessons  out  of  school.  The 
girl's  own  ambition  was  roused  at  finding  her- 
self associated  with  those  of  her  own  age  who 
seemed  so  much  in  advance  of  her.  She  was 
in  school  from  nine  till  four,  and  all  her  even- 
ings were  given  to  her  books ;  and  when  you 
know  that  she  had  no  less  than  five  different 
studias,  besides  music  and  painting,  you  will 
not  wonder  that  she  had  to  work  late  and  early 
to  keep  up  her  standing  in  the  school.  Just 
at  the  most  critical  time  of  her  life,  when  she 
specially  needed  out-of-door  exercise  and  abun- 
dant repose  of  mind  and  body,  she  was  over- 


MISS    BROWN.  275 

worked  in  a  way  that  no  reasonable  person 
would  allow  in  a  young  man  of  twenty  in  col- 
lege. As  a  consequence,  her  health  has  broken 
down  ;  she  is  subject  to  all  sorts  of  hysterical 
atfections;  she  has  a  constant  cough,  and  is 
going  down  the  hill  that  has  but  one  ending, 
as  fast  as  possible.  But  Martha  is  blind.  Mrs. 
Martin  herself  suggested  that  Jenny  had  better 
be  taken  out  of  school;  but  the  only  conse- 
quence was  that  Jenny  was  removed  from  her 
establishment  and  placed  in  that  of  Miss  Brad- 
ley, who  ought  to  have  been  a  cattle-driver,  I 
think,"  concluded  Miss  Brown.  "  She  would 
have  exactly  suited  that  position." 

"  I  know  her  well,"  said  Veronica.  "  I  taught 
in  her  school  one  year.  Poor  Jenny!  I  believe 
a  great  many  girls  are  sacrificed  in  the  same 
way.  The  discipline  of  mind  and  body  which 
ought  to  be  spread  over  at  least  eighteen  years 
is  all  crammed  into  five  or  six.  Perhaps  those 
are  the  happiest  who  die  in  the  process,  in- 
stead of  living  on  in  miserable  ill  health  all 
their  lives  after.  A  great  many,  however, 
merely  turn  out  dunces.  They  give  the  whole 
force  of  their  minds  to  resisting  the  cramming 
process  and  trying  how  little  they  can  learn. 

"  But,  to  change  the  subject,  I  want  you  and 


276  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

your  brother  to  come  round  to  our  house  to 
dinner  at  four  o'clock.  Now,  I  shall  take  no 
denial." 

"  Why,  you  know,  Veronica,  I  never  go 
anywhere;  but,  this  being  a  special  occasion, 
I  suppose  I  must  break  through  my  rule  for 
once.  As  to  Nathan,"  she  added,  smiling,  "  I 
think  it  is  likely  he  is  at  your  house  now.  I 
happened  to  mention  Rebecca  this  morning, — 
perhaps  you  don't  know." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Veronica,  much  amused. 
"And  so  he  has  found  her  already?  Well, 
I  won't  be  selfish  enough  to  hope  that  they 
will  renew  their  quarrel;  though  I  cannot 
even  begin  to  guess  how  I  should  live  with- 
out Becky." 

On  leaving  the  Home,  Veronica  called 
at  Dr.  Courtland's,  and  then  went  round  to 
order  certain  matters  for  her  dinner-table. 
As  she  reached  her  own  gate,  she  was  con- 
fronted by  a  tall,  bearded  figure,  sunburnt 
and  stalwart,  just  issuing  therefrom,  and 
caught  a  vision  of  Becky  vanishing  in  the 
distance.  The  stranger  lifted  his  hat  with  an 
amused  sort  of  conscious  expression,  and  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street. 

"Oh,  ho!     So    you    have  found  your  way 


MISS    BROWN.  277 

round  already,  have  you?"  said  Veronica. 
"  But  I  must  know  more  about  you  before 
you  carry  off  Becky,  if  you  were  the  greatest 
nr.bob  in  India.  I  should  like  to  know 
how  my  company-dinner  has  fared  all  this 
time." 


278 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BECKY. 

'HE  company-dinner  did  not  ap- 
pear to  have  suffered  materially. 
Every  thing  was  going  on  as 
usual  in  the  kitchen.  Nelly  was 
helping,  as  she  commonly  did  upon 
emergencies,  and  Becky  was  elabo- 
rating her  pie-crust  as  composedly  as 
though  nothing  had  happened.  Veronica 
glanced  at  her  face,  and  there  indeed  was  a 
change.  The  stern,  repressed  expression,  which 
she  had  worn  till  it  had  become  habitual  to 
her,  seemed  to  have  been  put  away  like  a 
mask.  She  appeared  to  have  grown  twenty 
years  younger  in  a  day,  and  looked  again  as 
Veronica  remembered  her  when  they  first  met 
at  Mrs.  Campion's  on  one  of  Veronica's  vaca- 
tion-visits. Presently  Veronica  sent  Nelly  on 
an  errand,  and  busied  herself  with  something 
in  the  kite  lien,  on  purpose  to  give  Rebecca  an 


BECKY.  279 

opportunity  of  speaking,  if  she  were  so  dis- 
posed. For  some  little  time  she  worked  at 
her  tarts  in  silence.  "  Mrs.  Mark/'  said  she, 
finally,  "do  you  believe  in  answers  to 
prayer  ?" 

"  Why,  Becky,  I  hardly  see  what  use  there 
would  be  in  praying  unless  one  did  believe  in 
answers,"  said  Veronica.  "  Where  would  be 
the  object  ?" 

"  Some  folks  say  that  the  only  use  is  to  com- 
pose and  settle  our  own  minds,"  observed 
Becky.  "  I  picked  up  a  book  the  other  day, — 
I  guess  it  was  one  of  those  Mr.  Clarendon  sent 
in  to  be  noticed, — which  said  that  it  was  use- 
less, and  even  impious,  to  pray  for  temporal 
blessings." 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  either  view,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "  I  suppose  that  when  God  tells  us, 
by  his  apostle,  'In  every  thing  by  prayer  and 
supplication  let  your  requests  be  made  known 
unto  God,'  he  means  just  what  he  says;  and 
therefore  I  feel  at  perfect  liberty  to  go  to  him 
with  all  my  wants  and  desires." 

"  But  God  does  not  always  give  us  all  we 
ask  him  for,"  said  Becky. 

"  No, — fortunately  for  us.  If  I  thought  God 
was  sure  to  give  rne  every  thing  I  asked  of 

24 


280  THE    TWIN    ROKES. 

him,  I  should  hardly  dare  ask  for  any  thing; 
but  because  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  his 
infinite  wisdom  as  well  as  in  his  unchanging 
love, — because  I  believe  that  he  can  give  me 
every  thing  that  I  desire,  and  grudges  me 
nothing  that  is  either  profitable  or  pleasant  to 
me, — therefore  I  am  bold  to  come  to  him  with 
all  my  requests,  great  and  small.  I  do  not 
think  there  can  ever  be  either  danger  or  pre- 
sumption in  taking  our  heavenly  Father  at  his 
word." 

"He  keeps  us  waiting  a  long  time,  some- 
times," said  Becky. 

"  Yes,  even  till  another  world,  oftentimes,  I 
suspect." 

"  I  am  sure  I  thought  that  was  the  way  he 
meant  to  do  with  me,"  said  Becky.  "Oh, 
how  I  have  prayed  that  I  might  have  a  chance 
just  to  say  that  I  was  sorry, — just  to  set  things 
right !  I  didn't  ask  any  more  than  that.  Then, 
when,  after  all  my  prayers,  I  heard  he  was 
dead, — oh,  it  seemed  to  cut  the  very  ground 
from  under  my  feet !  I  was  like  one  lost,  for  a 
while.  I  had  always  believed  that  I  should 
be  heard, — it  seemed  as  though  it  must  be 
asking  according  to  his  will,  to  desire  to  set 
right  what  I  had  done  wrong, — and  then,  I 


BECKY.  281 

thought,  if  God  denied  me  in  this,  what  reason 
have  I  to  think  he  will  hear  me  in  any  thing  ? 
Oh,  it  was  a  dark,  dark  time!  I  don't  know, 
now,  how  I  lived." 

"  It  is  often  hard  for  us  to  tell  how  we  lived 
through  the  trials  we  look  back  upon,"  said 
Veronica.  "  I  suppose  it  is  because  God  has 
more  work  for  us  to  do,  or  because  he  sees  that 
we  are  not  yet  ready  to  go." 

"  I  suppose  he  saw  that  in  me;"  continued 
Becky;  "but  I  could  see  nothing, — nothing 
but  darkness.  In  one  way  it  was  good  for  me. 
I  never  understood  how  I  lived  upon  my  trust 
in  God,  till  that  trust  was  taken  away.  But, 
oh,  it  was  a  dreary  time  !" 

"And  how  did  the  light  come,  finally?" 
asked  Veronica. 

"  It  came  by  degrees,  without  any  help  of  my 
own,"  replied  Becky.  "  At  first  in  glimpses, 
soon  lost  again.  But  by-and-by  I  reflected 
that  this  world  was  not  all, — that  there  was 
another,  where  the  matter  might  be  set  right 
yet, — that  it  might  be  set  right  already,  for  all 
I  knew ;  and  somehow,  by  degrees,  I  grew 
nuiet  again,  and  was  contented  to  live  for  the 
work  I  had  to  do,  till  God's  time  came.  I 
never  looked  forward  to  any  thing  else  in  this 


282  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

world, — and  don't  now,  for  that  matter,"  con- 
cluded Becky,  briskly  giving  a  last  pinch  to 
her  pie,  and  setting  it  aside  with  a  decided  air, 
as  though  it  represented  something  which  was 
altogether  finished,  and  not  to  be  taken  up 
again ;  "  for  as  to  going  out  to  India,  and  all 
that,  of  course  it  is  out  of  the  question,  and  not 
to  be  thought  of." 

"So  it  has  come  to  that  already,  has  it?" 
thought  Veronica.  "  Upon  ray  word,  my  gen- 
tleman has  not  let  the  grass  grow  under  his 
feet."  "  I  would  not  decide  upon  any  thing 
hastily,  Becky,"  said  she.  "  Wait  a  little,  and 
be  guided  by  Providence.  You  made  one 
serious  mistake,  it  seems,  by  being  in  a  hurry; 
don't  make  another,  but  pray  for  direction 
before  you.  come  to  a  final  conclusion." 

The  days  went  on,  and  Captain  Brown  still 
lingered,  having,  as  it  appeared,  got  over  his 
hurry  to  return  to  India.  The  more  Veronica 
saw  of  him,  the  better  she  liked  him.  He  had 
seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world,  upon  all  its  sides, 
and  had  profited  by  his  experience.  He  was 
seriously  and  unaffectedly  religious,  full  of 
energy,  and  earnestly  desirous  to  benefit  the 
people  under  his  employ.  Rosy  looked  upon 
him  as  a  living  story-book,  full  of  lions  and 


BECKY.  283 

tigers,  whales  and  elephants,  gotten  up  for  her 
special  edification;  and  she  was  inclined  to  be 
rather  cross  with  Becky  for  occupying  so  much 
of  his  time. 

"  There  are  the  captain  and  Becky  talking 
out  by  the  gate  yet,"  said  she,  impatiently,  one 
evening,  and  peeping  between  the  curtains  for 
the  tenth  time.  "  I  do  wish  he  would  come 
in.  I  can't  think  what  they  find  to  talk  about 
so  long  :  can  you,  papa  ?" 

"  I  cannot  possibly  imagine,"  replied  Mark, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye ;  "  but  have  patience, 
Rosy.  I  dare  say  we  shall  find  out  some  day." 

The  day  came  all  too  soon  for  Eosy,  when 
she  found  out  what  Becky  and  the  captain 
talked  about.  Becky  was  one  morning  help- 
ing Veronica  about  some  necessary  rummaging 
in  the  garret,  where  were  stored  a  great  many 
things  belonging  to  Mrs.  Campion  and  Anne. 
It  was  a  favourable  time  for  confidences.  The 
rain  pattered  softly  upon  the  roof,  the  house 
was  all  quiet,  and  Veronica  and  Becky  sat  on 
the  floor  together,  beside  a  great  leather-covered 
trunk,  which  had  made  many  journeys  from 
Albany  to  a  neighbouring  town,  in  the  days 
when  canals  and  railroads  were  not,  and  Milby 
itself  boasted  of  only  one  log  hut. 

2  i--- 


284  THE   TWIN  ..ROSES. 

"  How  these  things  take  one  back  to  old 
times !"  said  Becky.  "  There  is  a  piece  of  the 
first  French  calico  I  ever  had.  Mr.  John 
gave  it  to  me,  and  I  thought  I  was  made;  for 
in  those  days  we  considered  a  French  calico 
good  enough  for  any  thing." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  us  if  we 
thought  so  now,"  replied  Veronica.  "  I  often 
sigh  over  the  days  when  a  pretty  delaine  was 
dress  enough  for  any  but  very  extraordinary 
occasions.  Then  it  was  a  rare  thing  to  see  a 
silk  dress  in  the  street  in  Milby.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  is  natural  for  people,  as  they  grow  older, 
to  look  back  and  say  that  the  former  days  were 
better  than  these." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Mark,  don't  you  begin  to  call 
yourself  old,"  said  Becky.  "  If  you  do,  I  shall 
never  have  the  courage  to  tell  you  any  thing ; 
for  I  feel  all  the  time  as  though  I  was  making 
an  old  fool  of  myself." 

"  In  what  particular  direction  ?"  asked  Ve- 
ronica, smiling;  "and  what  is  it  that  you  want 
to  tell  me  ?" 

"  Well ! — there  is  that  old  sampler  of  mine 
that  I  have  looked  for  so  often!"  replied 
Becky,  holding  up  the  article  in  question.  "I 
remember  how  proud  I  felt  when  I  had  worked 


BECKY.  285 

that  picture  at  the  bottom.  I  mean  to  give  it 
to  Rosy." 

"  Come,  Becky !"  urged  Veronica.  "  I  know 
that  was  not  what  you  were  going  to  say." 

"  Captain  Brown  is  going  back  to  India  next 
month,"  said  Becky,  after  another  pause,  during 
which  her  face  was  buried  in  the  trunk. 

"  Well,"  said  Veronica,  "and  he  wants  you 
to  go  with  him,  I  suppose?  Is  that  the 
secret  ?" 

"Well,  yes:  I  suppose  that  is  the  amount 
of  it,"  said  Becky.  "  But  he  is  not  going  to 
stay.  He  is  going  to  sell  out  and  come  back 
in  a  little  while, — say  about  two  years." 

"Oh  !  and  he  wants  you  to  wait  for  him  till 
he  comes  back  ?"  said  Veronica,  mischievously. 
"Well,  that  will  give  you  a  good  long  time  to 
make  your  preparations." 

"Well,  no.  You  see,  we  are  neither  of  us 
as  young  as  we  have  been,  and — and — it  would 
be  kind  of  dreary  for  him  to  go  all  that  way 
back  alone ;  and  so, — I  do  feel  real  bad  about 
going  away  and  leaving  you,  Mrs.  Mark,  that 
is  a  fact;  but  then,  you  see,  it  seems  as  if " 

"As  if  you  owed  something  to  him.  Well, 
Becky,  I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  lose  you, — more 
sorry  than  I  can  tell ;  but  I  do  think  you  have 


286  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

kept  the  poor  captain  waiting  about  long 
enough." 

"And  there  is  another  reason  for  my  going, 
Mrs.  Mark,"  said  Becky,  eagerly.  "  There  is 
that  poor  little  Jenny  James.  Dr.  Woodman 
says  that  a  long  sea-voyage  and  a  change  of 
climate  would  probably  save  her  life.  Na- 
than would  like  to  take  her  along  with  him; 
and  of  course  she  can't  go  without  some  one  to 
take  care  of  her." 

"Of  course  not,"  replied  Veronica.  "And 
so  you  mean  to  take  poor  Jenny  with  you. 
Well,  I  must  say,  it  is  very  kind  in  the  captain, 
after  all  the  provocation  the  James  family  have 
given  him.  He  tells  me  lie  has  serious  sus- 
picions that  Tom  James  appropriated  some,  at 
least,  of  the  remittances  he  sent  to  his  sister." 

"  The  poor  girl  is  not  to  blame  for  the  faults 
of  her  father  and  mother,"  said  Becky. 

"Certainly  not.  I  dare  say  she  will  make 
a  very  pleasant  companion  for  you.  But, 
Becky,  have  you  considered  well?  It  is  a 
serious  undertaking,  going  so  far  from  home, 
among  strangers." 

"And  heathens,  too!  That's  the  worst  of 
it,"  said  Becky.  "  I  keep  thinking  of  that 
picture  in  the  London  News,  of  the  servants 


BECKY.  287 

straining  their  master's  coffee  through  the  dirty 
sock,  and  apologizing  by  saying  that  they 
never  took  master's  clean  socks.  But  then, 
you  see,  it  was  my  fault  that  he  went  there  in 
the  first  place ;  and  it  is  not  as  if  we  were 
going  to  stay."  . 

"  Well/'  said  Veronica,  "  I  shall  say  no- 
thing against  it.  I  think,  with  you,  that  you 
owe  a  duty  to  Captain  Brown,  and  that  it  is 
much  better  for  you  both  that  you  should  be 
married  now  than  that  you  should  wait  longer. 
I  shall  not  know  how  to  live  without  you, 
Becky  ;  but  I  have  no  right  to  require  you  to 
make  such  a  sacrifice  to  me  as  this  long  waiting 
would  be.  I  think  you  have  decided  rightly; 
and  I  am  quite  sure  that  Mark  will  agree 
with  me." 

Mark  did  agree,  and  so  did  Miss  Brown, 
that  the  marriage  had  much  better  take  place 
directly.  Rosy  alone  withheld  her  consent. 
She  could  not  see  why  Becky  should  want  to 
go  clear  away  to  India,  among  the  tigers  and 
snakes,  for  the  sake  of  that  old  Captain  Brown. 
She  thought  him  very  cruel  to  take  her  away, 
and  refused  to  see  any  parallel  between  him 
and  Becky  and  papa  and  mamma.  Veronica 
tried  to  show  her  that  she  was  selfish  in  re- 


288  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

quiring  Becky  to  stay  at  home  for  her  sake; 
but  Rosy  would  not  be  convinced.  It  was  not 
for  her  own  sake,  but  for  Becky's,  that  she 
objected;  and  she  remained  to  the  last  wholly 
unreconciled. 

Mrs.  James  made  a  great  favour  of  let- 
ting Jenny  go  with  Captain  Brown,  while  in 
her  heart  she  rejoiced  in  the  success  of  her 
schemes  to  worm  her  daughter  into  her  uncle's 
good  graces.  She  was  very  indignant  when 
she  heard  of  the  proposed  marriage,  and  talked 
a  great  deal  of  the  degradation  of  such  a 
match;  but  a  hint  from  the  captain  silenced 
her. 

"  Your  family,  Mrs.  James !  Pray,  who  are 
they,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  ?" 

Mrs.  James  coloured  with  rage;  but  she  said 
no  more. 

The  wedding  was  to  take  place  two  weeks 
before  the  time  of  sailing.  Veronica's  sewing- 
machine  ran  all  day  long  in  Becky's  behalf. 

The  captain  produced  a  gay  brocade  and  a 
white  cashmere  shawl,  which  made  his  bride 
the  envy  of  half  the  ladies  in  Milby.  The 
wedding  took  place  in  church.  Rosy  so  far 
relented  as  to  act  as  bridesmaid,  in  a  white 
muslin  frock,  and  a  most  wonderful  sash,  the 


28!> 


gift  of  the  bridegroom.     Mark  gave  away  the 
bride,  and  all  went  off  well. 

Jenny  James,  relieved  from  school  and  lessons 
and  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  her  journey, 
seemed  better  already,  and  the  doctor  prophe- 
sied great  things  for  her.  They  were  to  go  by 
the  way  of  the  Red  Sea ;  and  Mark  somewhat 
comforted  Rosy  by  taking  her  down  to  New 
York  and  on  board  the  ocean-steamer,  to  see 
them  off. 


290  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

KITTY. 

yE  must  now  ask  our  readers  to  make 
a  long  step,  both  as  regards  time 
and  space,  in  order  that  we  may 
follow  the  fortunes  of  another  of 
our  personages.  The  time  is  about 
five  years  in  advance  of  our  last 
chapter;  the  place,  a  large,  old-fashioned 
house  in  an  ancient  quarter  of  New  Or- 
leans. In  an  upper  room  of  this  house  lies  u 
helpless  invalid.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  she  has 
no  use  of  her  lower  limbs,  and  but  little  of  her 
hands;  while  in  her  face,  once  handsome,  and 
still  striking,  but  wrinkled  and  sharpened  by 
pain  and  impatience,  we  have  some  difficulty 
in  recognizing  Adela  Brush.  Who,  then,  is  this 
in  attendance  upon  her, — this  tall,  dark  girl,  so 
strikingly  beautiful,  but  sad,  and  wearing  a 
repressed  and  almost  stern  expression?  Can 
that  be  Kitty  Campion  ?  Even  so. 


KITTY.  291 

What  a  melancholy  lot  was  hers !  Assiduous 
devotion  to  the  necessities  and  caprices  of  an 
invalid,  who  repaid  kindness  with  reproaches, 
and  self-sacrifice  with  railing  or  contempt! 

In  the  hard  task  of  endurance  she  found  an 
invaluable  aid  in  the  faithful  Chloe,  who  on 
one  occasion,  when  Miss  Brush  had  been  un- 
usually petulant,  counselled  her  thus  : — 

"  Never  mind,  Miss  Kitty,  honey  :  don't  ye 
fly  out  and  get  angry,  whatever  she  says.  You 
know  that's  no  use." 

"  I'll  try,  Chloe,"  said  Kitty.  "  I  do  try 
every  day,  and  I  am  sorry  whenever  I  answer 
her  back;  but  she  is  so  awfully  provoking." 

"  That's  a  fact,  she  is,"  answered  Chloe;  "and 
I  think  she's  worse  now  that  she  has  nothing 
else  but  her  tongue  to  use.  She  is,  and  she 
always  was,  the  hardest  person  to  get  on  with 
that  ever  I  see.  I  do  think,  Miss  Kitty,  ye  do 
'rnazin'  well,  considerin'.  But  I'm  goin'  to  get 
her  breakfast  ready  before  I  goes  up,  anyway, 
and  yours  too,  honey.  It's  'mazin'  little  there 
is  to  get,  anyhow." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  less  before  long," 
said  Kitty,  sighing.  "I  have  no  more  money; 
and  I  don't  know  where  money  is  to  come 
from,  unless  I  sell  something  else  out  of  the 

25 


292  THE    TWIX    ROSES. 

house;  and  Aunt  Adela  won't  hear  of  any 
thing  like  that." 

"  Well,  then,  honey,  you'll  just  have  to  take 
the  law  in  your  own  hands,"  said  Chloe. 
"  Miss  Addy  must  eat,  and  so  must  you.  But 
we  needn't  take  trouble  before  it  conies.  The 
Lord  '11  provide." 

Now  let  us  return  for  a  season  to  the  North. 

Miss  Brush  had  no  sooner  heard  from  her 
lawyer  that  Rosy  had  a  sister  living  with  her 
old  schoolmate  Anne  Holley,  than  her  plans 
were  formed.  How  they  succeeded,  we  well 
know.  Anne  was  in  truth  heartily  weary  of 
her  charge.  Kitty  was  indeed  a  trial.  Sys- 
tematically trained  from  her  earliest  years  to 
self-indulgence  in  every  form  within  her  reach, 
allowed  her  own  way  in  every  thing  and  with 
everybody,  she  was  at  nine  years  old  as  haughty, 
selfish,  and  discontented  as  was  to  be  expected. 
She  had  become  a  nuisance  of  no  common 
order, — there  was  no  denying  it;  and  Anne 
had  neither  patience  nor  principle  to  enable  her 
to  bear  with  the  work  of  her  own  hands.  Be- 
sides, she  was  meditating  the  entering  into  a 
new  relation,  in  which  there  seemed  to  be  no 
place  for  Kitty.  She  was  easily  persuaded  that, 
after  all,  Miss  Brush  had  the  best  right  to  her 


KITTY.  293 

brother's  daughter, — that  no  doubt  poor  Daisy 
had  exaggerated  her  grievances, — that  Adela 
had  had  great  provocation, — that  she  was  just 
the  person,  with  her  firmness,  to  manage  Kitty, 
and,  as  she  was  rich  and  had  no  children,  it 
would  be  for  the  child's  good  in  the  end.  In 
short,  she  was  weary  enough  of  her  charge  to 
be  ready  to  get  rid  of  her  at  the  first  chance; 
and  here  was  one  ready-made  to  her  hand. 

At  first,  Kitty  was  pleased  enough  with  the 
idea  of  a  change.  She  had  got  the  idea  firmly 
fixed  in  her  mind  that  all  her  troubles  arose 
from  her  position  as  an  adopted  child,  and  she 
thought  an  own  aunt  would  be  better  than  a 
mother  who  was  no  mother  after  all. 

She  soon  found  out  her  mistake;  and  almost 
from  the  first  there  was  open  war  between 
them.  The  journey  was  one  scene  of  dispute 
and  disobedience ;  but  Miss  Brush  waited  for 
the  grand  trial  of  strength  till  she  should  be 
in  her  own  house.  She  reckoned  without  her 
host.  The  battle  was  fought,  and  Kitty  came 
off  conqueror.  Headstrong  and  spoiled  as  she 
was,  she  had  one  accessible  point.  She  was 
capable  of  strong  affection  for  any  one  who 
inspired  respect  in  her,  and  a  person  she  once 
loved  she  loved  forever  afterwards.  Unluckily, 


294  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

it  was  upon  this  very  side  that  Miss  Brush  chose 
to  attack  her.  A  few  days  after  their  arrival  in 
New  Orleans,  a  visitor  asked  Kitty  her  name. 

"  Catherine  Brush  Campion,"  was  the  reply. 
It  was  given  without  thought,  as  Kitty  had 
all  her  life  been  called  by  the  name  of  her 
adopted  father ;  but  Miss  Brush  chose  to  con- 
sider it  a  direct  act  of  rebellion  and  a  premedi- 
tated insult  to  herself. 

"Your  name  is  Catherine  Brush,  and  no- 
thing else,"  said  she,  sternly.  "  Let  me  never 
hear  the  name  of  that  man  again." 

Kitty's  spirit  was  roused  in  an  instant.  "My 
name  is  Kitty  Campion,  and  nothing  else," 
cried  she,  with  flashing  eyes.  "  My  dear  papa 
was  better  than  any  one  here;  and  I  will  men- 
tion his  name  whenever  I  please." 

"Very  well,  miss."  We  will  settle  that 
presently,"  said  Miss  Brush,  grimly.  The 
visitor  departed;  and  then  came  a  terrible 
scene.  Miss  Brush  insisted  that  Kitty  should 
promise  never  to  call  herself  Campion  again. 
Kitty  declared  she  would  never  call  herself 
any  thing  else.  Miss  Brush  undertook  to 
chastise  her  into  obedience,  and  Kitty  seized 
the  hearth-broom  and  dealt  her  aunt  a  blow 
on  the  face  which  left  its  mark  for  a  week. 


KITTY.  295 

Finally,  when  her  shrieks  had  attracted  a 
crowd  in  front  of  the  house,  she  was  dragged 
up-stairs  by  main  force  and  imprisoned  in  a 
back  garret,  where  she  was  kept  without  food 
until  late  the  next  day.  All  in  vain.  Natural 
obstinacy,  wounded  aifection,  and  the  sense  of 
injustice,  combined  to  support  her,  and,  though 
she  was  so  faint  she  could  hardly  speak,  there 
was  unconquerable  resolution  in  the  tone  in 
which  she  answered  to  Miss  Brush's  repeated 
question,  "  Catherine  Brush  Campion." 

Here  was  a  dilemma!  Miss  Brush  had  for 
once  met  her  match.  She  dared  not  keep  the 
child  longer  without  food;  but,  behold,  when 
food  was  offered,  Kitty  would  not  eat!  In 
fact,  she  could  not.  She  had  fasted  just  to  the 
point  where  food  was  distasteful  to  her,  and 
she  turned  from  it  with  loathing.  She  was 
put  to  bed  in  her  aunt's  room,  and  awoke  her 
in  the  night  with  a  frightful  attack  of  croup, 
to  which  she  had  always  been  subject.  Miss 
Brush  had  never  seen  the  disease,  and  did  not 
know  its  danger ;  but  Chloe  did,  and  at  once 
despatched  a  messenger  for  the  doctor.  Puz- 
zled at  the  condition  in  which  he  found  the 
child,  he  questioned  those  around  her,  and 
found  out  the  true  state  of  the  case.  He  was 

25* 


290  THE   TWIN    EOSES. 

an  old  family  friend,  and  well  knew  Miss 
Brush's  character. 

"You  have  ail-but  murdered  the  child/: 
said  he,  sternly.  "  Exhausted  as  she  JR,  the 
chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  against  her  rally- 
ing. Were  you  mad?  Do  you  want  another 
coroner's  inquest  in  the  house  ?" 

"What  was  I  to  do?"  asked  Miss  Brush, 
sullenly.  "  The  child  would  not  obey  me. 
Was  I  to  give  up  to  her  ?" 

"  You  acted  like  a  fool  in  provoking  a  con- 
test upon  such  a  subject,"  replied  Dr.  Fuller. 
"  If  the  battle  must  come,  why  not  let  it  eome 
upon  some  point  of  real  consequence,  and  not 
upon  one  in  which  all  the  poor  child's  affec- 
tions were  engaged?  One  such  piece  of  injus- 
tice and  cruelty  was  enough  to  destroy  your 
influence  with  her  forever.  Suppose  you  had 
conquered :  what  do  you  think  you  would 
have  gained?  Nothing  but  the  child's  un- 
dying hatred  and  distrust." 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
her,"  said  Miss  Brush. 

"  Ay,  there  I  agree  with  you ;  but,  now  you 
have  got  her,  remember  that  children  are  not 
always  to  be  straightened,  like  crooked  nails, 
by  sheer  hammering,  and  that  even  in  ham- 


KITTY.  297 

mering  a  nail  it  is  necessary  to  strike  in  the 
right  place,  to  do  any  good." 

The  struggle  was  a  severe  one ;  but  Kitty's 
good  constitution  triumphed,  and,  after  twenty- 
four  hours'  hard  fighting,  she  was  pronounced 
out  of  immediate  danger.  A  low  fever  fol- 
lowed the  attack,  and  it  was  two  weeks  before 
Kitty  was  able  to  leave  her  bed.  Now  was 
the  time  for  Miss  Brush,  in  some  measure,  to 
undo  the  harm  she  had  done,  and  by  kindness 
and  attention  to  gain  the  child's  heart.  But  no: 
Miss  Brush  hated  a  sick-room.  She  was  no 
nurse,  she  said, — which  was  true  enough ;  and 
she  lacked  the  unselfish  affection  which  might 
supply  the  place  of  skill.  She  contented  her- 
self with  providing  every  thing  the  doctor  re- 
commended, and  coming  once  or  twice  a  day  to 
.stand  for  a  moment  at  the  bedside  and  ask  a  few 
questions,  to  which  Kitty  would  hardly  ever 
reply.  At  last  she  recovered;  but  Miss  Brush 
never  again  approached  the  subject  of  her 
name.  Conquered  once,  her  pride  would  not 
let  her  risk  a  second  defeat. 

For  a  while  Kitty  seemed  entirely  changed. 
A  sullen,  brooding  dulness  appeared  to  have 
taken  the  place  of  her  former  vivacity  of  tem- 
per. She  hardly  ever  replied  to  her  aunt's 


298  THE  TWIN   ROSES. 

sarcasms,  or  responded  to  her  rare  approaches  to 
something  like  affection.  Miss  Brush  sent  her 
to  school,  where  she  got  on  tolerably  well, 
considering  her  bad  training.  It  would  be 
hard  to  find  a  more  unhappy  child  than  poor 
Kitty  was  at  this  time.  She  lived  in  a  state 
of  constant  hostility  to  her  aunt  and  to  most 
of  her  school-fellows.  Her  teachers  could 
make  nothing  of  her.  Miss  Brush  hated  ani- 
mals of  every  kind,  and  would  allow  no  pets 
about  the  house;  and  if  the  servants  smuggled 
in  a  kitten  or  puppy  for  Kitty's  benefit,  it  was 
sure  to  be  persecuted  without  mercy.  Kitty 
had  but  two  friends.  One  was  Dr.  Fuller,  who 
had4  become  interested  in  the  forlorn  child,  and 
the  other  was  Chloe.  With  neither  of  these 
two  could  Miss  Brush  afford  to  quarrel,  and  the 
latter  was  especially  necessary  to  her  in  the  ser- 
vices required  by  the  increasing  but  carefully 
concealed  disorder  under  which  she  laboured. 

As  though  determined  to  set  pain  at  defiance, 
as  she  had  done  every  thing  else,  Miss  Brush 
went  into  company  more  and  more;  and  the 
happiest  hours  Kitty  knew  were  those  in  which 
her  aunt  was  away,  and  she  spent  the  evening 
with  Chloe,  hearing  her  sing  her  Methodist 
hymns,  reading  the  Bible  to  her,  and  listening 


ffifjt  Ctotn  Haste 


'  You've  got  to  love  the  Lord,  and  try  to  please  him."     p.  299. 


KITTY.  299 

to  stories  about  her  own  mother,  and  about  the 
aunt  Catherine  for  whom  she  was  named. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Kitty,  my  lamb,  if  you  would 
only  take  after  her !"  Chloe  would  say.  "  You'se 
going  to  look  jest  like  her ;  but  you  haven't 
got  her  sperrit,  honey.  She  was  as  meek  as  a 
lamb, — poor  dear!"  And  then  Chloe  would 
repeat  the  story  of  Catherine's  gentleness,  of 
her  attachment  and  engagement,  broken  off'  by 
the  pride  of  her  family,  of  her  piety  and  her 
early  death.  "You  see,  she  wasn't  afraid  to 
die,"  she  would  conclude.  "  She  know'd  she 
wras  goin'  to  her  Father's  house  of  many  man- 
sions, you  was  readin'  about  just  now;  and  she 
was  glad  to  go." 

"  I  wish  I  was  there !"  said  Kitty,  one  night. 
"Then  I  should  see  my  dear  papa  Campion." 

'Ah,  my  lamb,  but  you'se  got  to  be  a  dif- 
ferent child  from  what  you  are  now,"  said 
Chloe.  "  You'se  got  to  love  the  Lord,  and  try 
to  please  him  and  be  like  him ;  and  you  don't 
do  that  now.  Your  poor  little  heart's  full  of 
hatred  and  spite,  and  you  don't  forgive.  You 
hate  poor  Aunt  Adela;  and  that  a'n't  the  sper- 
rit that  was  in  Christ  Jesus.  He  loved  his 
enemies  and  died  for  'em;  and  he  loves  poor 
Miss  Addy,  though  she  hates  his  very  name. 


300  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

You  can't  go  to  heaven  while  you'se  like  that, 
honey.  You  can't  never  go  to  heaven  while 
you  hate  anybody." 

"Then  I  can't  go  at  all,  Chloe;  for  I  can't 
help  it," 

"But  the  dear  Lord  can  help  it  for  you, 
honey.  He  can  give  you  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
change  your  heart,  so's  you'll  love  what  you 
hated  before,  and  hate  what  you  loved  before. 
He  can,  my  lamb.  He  did  it  for  me,  and  I'm 
sure  he  will  for  you."  And  Chloe  proceeded 
to  tell  Kitty  her  own  story, — a  tale  of  wrongs 
too  common  in  those  dark  days,  and  which 
need  not  be  repeated  here.  "  Think  of  that, 
my  lamb !  And  if  he  could  do  that  for  me, 
couldn't  he  do  it  for  you,  that's  so  much 
younger  and  has  so  much  less  to  get  over?" 

This  was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  of  such 
conversations.  In  one  sense,  the  soil  was  pre- 
pared for  the  good  seed.  Kitty's  very  desola- 
tion made  her  feel  the  need  of  a  friend.  A» 
we  have  seen,  she  could  love  deeply  where  she 
could  respect;  and  the  character  of  our  Lord, 
as  she  read  of  it  in  the  Gospels,  attracted  both 
respect  and  love.  She  began  to  think  of  him 
as  Chloe  did, — as  a  real,  living,  always  present, 
all-powerful  friend, — and  to  wish  to  have  him 


KITTY.  301 

on  her  side.  Then  came  fierce  conflicts.  She 
would  resolve  and  re-resolve  to  please  him  and 
be  like  him;  but  the  first  sneer  or  sarcasm 
from  her  aunt  would  upset  all  her  resolutions 
and  bring  on  a  fit  of  anger  and  rebellion  which 
drove  her  to  despair.  Then  she  prayed  for 
help  against  her  sins,  and  for  pardon;  and  at 
last,  with  Chloe's  help,  she  found  the  peace 
which  comes  from  a  consciousness  of  accept- 
ance with  God  through  Christ's  atoning  blood. 

She  had  a  hard  time,  poor  child,  after  all. 
The  selfish  and  rebellious  habits  of  her  life- 
time came  back  to  plague  her.  She  had  never 
been  taught  any  self-control;  and  it  was  hard 
to  learn  now.  Her  aunt's  sneers  and  taunts 
.seemed  to  increase  in  proportion  to  her  efforts 
to  meet  them  in  a  Christian  spirit;  for  Miss 
Brush  was  not  one  to  be  disarmed  by  gentle- 
ness. But  those  on  Kitty's  side  were  stronger 
than  those  against  her,  and  slowly,  with  many 
falls  and  hard  bruises,  with  many  conflicts  and 
not  a  few  defeats,  she  advanced  in  the  way  that 
leads  to  life. 

At  last  Adela's  disease  reached  a  point  at 
which  it  could  no  longer  be  concealed.  She 
\vas  attacked,  in  addition,  by  a  sort  of  paralysis, 
which  confined  her  to  her  bed  and  made  her 


302  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

entirely  dependent  upon  those  about  her.  She 
was  now  to  find  out  the  worth  of  the  strong 
will  she  had  always  boasted  of  as  able  to  sus- 
tain her  under  any  trials.  She  found  it  could 
not  so  much  as  bring  to  her  lips  a  glass  of  water, 
though  it  stood  under  her  longing  eyes.  She 
was  dependent  for  the  very  means  of  existence 
upon  those  whom  she  had  always  ill  treated, 
and  who  now  had  it  in  their  power  to  repay 
her  with  interest.  Well  was  it  for  her  that  a 
stronger  hand  than  hers  had  been  dealing  with 
them,  undoing  the  mischief  she  had  wrought. 

Poverty  was  now  added  to  her  trials.  Of 
her  servants  in  New  Orleans,  some  had  been 
sold  to  supply  the  pressing  needs  of  the  house, 
some  had  run  away,  some  had  died.  At  the 
time  our  story  finds  her,  there  was  no  one 
left  in  her  large  and  stately  house  but  Chloe 
and  Kitty;  and  neither  of  them  knew  where 
to  look  for  next  day's  meal.  But  for  Chloe's 
ti  rnely  discovery  of  some  coffee,  Kitty  would  have 
breakfasted  on  dry  bread  and  water.  Piece 
after  piece  of  silver  had  been  sold,  until  little 
remained  to  dispose  of  *but  family  jewels,  which 
Adela  would  not  hear  of  parting  with. 


THE    MEETING. 


303 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   MEETING. 

JISS  ADDY'S   asleep  now,"  said 
Chloe,  presently  coming  down  to 
the  room  where  Kitty  was  still 
lingering  over  her  cup  of  coffee, 
think   likely  she'll    have  a  long 
nap.    You  just  go  and  sit  by  her,  and 
I'll   do  up  the  work,  and  then   I'll  just 
curl  down  and  have  a  sleep  myself.     I'se 
powerful  sleepy,  that's  a  fact." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be,"  said  Kitty, 
rising.  "  You  ought  to  let  me  stay  with  aunt 
part  of  the  night." 

"  No,  honey !    You'se  young  and  gittin'  your 
growth,  and  it  a'li't  healthy  for  young  girls  to 
be  up  nights.     You  does  too  much  as  it  is." 
"  If  it  was  only  the  doing !"  sighed  Kitty. 
"Yes,  yes,  I   know;    but   don't   complain, 
honey.     Take  up  your  cross, — that's  the  only 
way." 

26 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Kitty  went  up-stairs,  and,  finding  her  aunt 
still  asleep,  she  sat  down  by  the  open  window 
with  her  Bible,  sometimes  reading,  sometimes 
looking  out  upon  the  silent  city  and  thinking 
of  home.  "What  had  become  of  them  all? 
Why  had  Uncle  Mark  never  answered  the  let- 
ters she  had  sent  him  ?  Or  had  he  answered 
them?  What  was  Aunt  Veronica  doing? 
What  was  Rosy  like?  Should  she  ever  see 
them  again?"  She  was  roused  from  her  re- 
very  by  a  voice  from  the  bed. 

"  How  anxiously  have  I  sought  for  happi- 
ness in  the  world!  It  was  a  great  mistake, 
— all  a  mistake!  Every  thing  has  been  a  mis- 
take, all  my  life  long.  It  might  have  been 
different,  if — but  it  is  too  late  now.  Do  you 
remember  your  mother,  Catherine?" 

"  No,  aunt,"  said  Kitty,  wondering  more 
and  more.  "  She  died  when  I  was  very  little." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure.  You  are  not  like  her. 
You  are  like  your  aunt  Catherine.  You  never 
heard  of  her?" 

"Yes,  aunt:  Chloe  has  told  me  about  her." 

"  That  was  another  mistake!"  continued  Miss 
Brush.  "  We  might  have  let  her  marry  him 
and  go  away.  Ah,  well!  they  are  both  dead 
now:  so  it  is  all  the  same.  Open  my  Chinese 


THE    MEETING.  305 

cabinet,  child,  and  give  me  an  ivory  box  you 
will  see  there.  Yes,  that  is  it.  Now  open 
it.  Press  your  hand  on  that  stud.  Harder : 
— it  has  not  been  opened  in  years  and  years. 
Aii,  there  it  goes.  Now  take  out  the  minia- 
tures and  open  them.  Whose  is  that?" 

"A  lady  and  gentleman,  aunt.  What  a  beau- 
tiful woman  !'' 

"  That  is  your  mother,  Catherine.  Just  so  she 
looked  when  she  came  here  a  bride.  Ah,  how 
I  hated  her!  Perhaps  that  was  a  mistake  too." 

"  I  think  it  is  a  mistake  to  hate  anybody," 
said  Kitty.  "But  why  did  you  hate  mamma?" 

"  She  crossed  me,  child.  She  would  not  be 
guided  by  me,  and  she  weaned  your  father 
from  me.  He  had  been  under  my  thumb  be- 
fore that.  I  thought  her  a  soft  little  fool, 
whom  it  would  be  easy  to  govern.  She  crossed 
me,  and  so  I  hated  her.  But — I  don't  know, 
— perhaps  it  was  a  mistake — I  had  my  revenge 
at  last." 

"And  did  that  do  you  any  good,  Aunt 
Adela? — the  revenge,  I  mean  ?"  asked  Kitty. 

"  Revenge  is  sweet,  child.     Don't  you  Hud 
it  so  ?    Don't  you  rejoice  now  that  you  see  me 
helpless,  dependent,   in    your  power?     Don't 
cant,  but  tell  me  the  truth." 
D 


300  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

Kitty  paused  a  moment.  "  No,  Aunt  Adela," 
she  replied.  "If  I  could  cure  you  myself,  or 
if  I  could  bring  some  one  to  cure  you,  as  they 
brought  our  Saviour  to  cure  the  centurion's  ser- 
vant, I  would  do  it  in  a  minute." 

"Catherine  Brush,  lay  down  that  box. 
Now  put  your  hands  on  mine.  Look  me  in 
the  face, — so !  Now  tell  me  the  truth  !  Don't 
you  hate  me  ?  You  do,  in  your  soul !  Don't 
you?" 

"No,  aunt.  I  did  once;  but  I  don't  now. 
I  don't  love  you  as  much  as  I  should  like  to; 
but  I  do  not  hate  you,  and  I  would  help  you 
in  a  minute,  if  I  could." 

Miss  Brush  looked  long  and  searching!)7  into 
her  niece's  face.  "  I  believe  you  say  true,  child. 
There  is  no  hate  in  your  eyes,  and  no  falsehood. 
But  I  don't  understand  it." 

"Aunt  Adela,"  said  Kitty,  earnestly,  "  I  will 
tell  you  how  it  was, — truly.  I  did  hate  you, — 
so  that  I  would  have  liked  to  kill  you, — till 
Aunt  Chloe  taught  me  to  love  God.  And 
when  I  learned  to  love  Him  I  left  off  hating 
you.  I  have  begun  to  love  you  since  I  have 
had  so  much  to  do  for  you;  and  when  I  am  a 
better  girl  I  hope  I  shall  love  you  a  great 
deal  more." 


THE   MEETING.  307 

Kitty's  heart  warmed  with  her  own  words, 
and,  almost  for  the  first  time,  she  stooped  and 
kissed  her  aunt,  with  a  feeling  of  real  aifectiou. 

Miss  Brush  returned  the  kiss. 

"There,  child;  I  believe  you,  however  you 
came  by  it.  And,  Kitty,"  —  this,  too,  was 
new  in  her :  she  had  never  called  her  any 
thing  but  Catherine,  usually  Catherine  Brush, 
as  if  constantly  to  remind  her  of  their  first 
quarrel, — "and,  Kitty,  if  you  can,  when  I  am 
gone,  take  care  of  Chloe.  She  has  been  a 
faithful  servant  to  our  house.  I  can't  say  any 
more  now.  There ;  put  the  things  away.  Stay ; 
let  me  see  the  other  picture." 

Kitty  put  it  into  her  hand.  It  was  that  of 
a  very  lovely  young  woman;  and  even  Kitty 
could  see  the  likeness  to  herself. 

"That  is  your  aunt  Catherine.  You  are  like 
her.  She,  too,  found  comfort  in  religion.  I 
never  had  any.  There;  put  them  away,  or 
keep  them  if  you  like.  All  the  things  in  that 
cabinet  are  yours.  There  are  some  jewels. 
Take  care  of  them.  Oh,  my  child,  what  is  to 
become  of  you  ?" 

"  Never  mind,  aunt,"  said  Kitty,  wondering 
more  and  more.  "  I  shall  be  taken  care  of 
somehow.  But,  aunt,  have  you  got  any  money  ?" 


THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

"No,  child, — not  a  picayune." 

"Nor  have  I,  aunt;  and  I  don't  see  what 
we  are  to  do,  unless  we  sell  something  more." 

"  Don't  talk  about  it  now,"  said  Miss 
Brush.  "Do  what  you  please,  —  you  and 
Chloe, — but  don't  tell  me  about  it.  There  are 
some  gold  chains  and  a  cross  and  rosary  of 
your  grandmother's :  I  never  thought  to  sell 
them  ;  but  you  cannot  starve.  Take  them  to 
Black  ;  he  is  an  honest  man  ;  perhaps  he  will 
lend  you  something  on  them  till  better  times. 
Kiss  me  again,  Kitty.  There ;  now  let  me 
sleep." 

Kitty  waited  till  her  aunt  was  asleep,  and  then 
she  slipped  out  and  went  to  find  Chloe,  who 
listened  with  awe-strickeu  interest  to  her  ac- 
count of  her  recent  interview  with  her  aunt. 

"She's  changed  for  death,  Miss  Kitty," said 
she,  with  the  superstition  of  her  race.  "  When 
folk  changes  like  that,  all  at  once,  it's  a  sure 
sign  the  hand  of  the  Lord's  on  'em.  She  won't 
last  much  longer.  I  guess  I'd  better  go  for 
the  doctor." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  ;  though  I  don't  suppose 
it  will  make  much  difference.  I  can't  think 
she  is  dying,  Chloe, — she  speaks  so  much  more 
clearly  ;  and  she  looks  better,  too." 


THE    MEETING.  300 

"  It's  just  the  flashing  up  of  the  lamp  before 
it  goes  out,  my  lamb.  You  haven't  seen  as 
many  death-beds  as  I  have.  I  pray  the  good 
Lord  you  never  may.  I  reckon  I'd  best  run 
for  Dr.  Fuller;  'cause,  you  know,  if  any  thing 
should  happen " 

Chloe  went  on  her  errand,  but  returned  un- 
successful. The  doctor  had  gone  out  into  the 
country  to  some  surgical  case,  and  would  not 
be  back  for  a  day  or  two. 

"  We  must  just  leave  her  in  the  Lord's  hands, 
Miss  Kitty.  There  a'n't  nothin'  else  we  can 
do,  as  I  see." 

Miss  Brush  slept  for  a  long  time,  and,  when 
she  awoke,  even  Kitty's  inexperienced  eye 
could  see  a  great  change.  She  was  very  quiet, 
all  her  usual  fretful  ness  and  impatience  which 
made  her  so  hard  to  manage  being  gone.  She 
dozed  a  good  deal,  and  wandered  at  times,  but 
could  always  be  roused  by  Kitty's  voice,  and 
at  such  times  was  quite  herself.  She  seemed 
to  cling  specially  to  Kitty,  and  was  unwilling 
to  have  her  out  of  her  sight. 

The  next  day,  however,  it  became  necessary 
for  Kitty  to  go  out.  There  was  literally  no 
food  in  the  house,  and  nothing  wherewith  to 
buy  food.  Miss  Brush  had  none  but  very 


310  THE    TWIN    ROSES. 

distant  relatives  living,  and  most  of  them  had 
left  town.  It  would  not  answer,  for  obvious 
reasons,  to  send  a  servant  to  dispose  of  so  valu- 
able an  article  as  the  rosary,  upon  which  Kitty 
proposed  to  raise  some  money. 

It  was  with  some  little  trepidation  that  she 
entered  Mr.  Black's  shop.  She  had  been  there 
before  upon  a  similar  errand,  and  she  could 
never  divest  herself  of  a  feeling  of  shame  and 
mortification, — though  she  told  herself  over 
and  over  that  there  was  no  sin  in  being  poor. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  shop  but  a  gentleman 
who  had  his  back  turned  towards  her  and  was 
busy  trying  some  gold  pens. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Brush,  I  would  gladly  ac- 
commodate you  if  I  could,"  said  Mr.  Black, 
"  but  really  I  have  no  money.  This  rosary  is 
a  valuable  article.  The  gold  is  sterling  and 
very  old,  and  the  old  coins  attached  are  worth 
far  more  than  their  intrinsic  value,  as  curiosi- 
ties. This  one,  you  see,  is  of  the  time  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  very  rare.  It  would  be 
a  pity  to  part  with  this  relic  unless  it  is  neces- 
sary." 

"  It  w  necessary,"  said  Kitty,  hardly  able 
to  restrain  her  tears  at  the  disappointment. 
"  Unless  you  can  give  me  something  for  the 


THE    MEETING.  311 

whole,  I  must  take  oil'  the  coins  and  spend 
them  in  the  market." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  look  at  the  rosary?" 
s:vd  a  voice  which  thrilled  Kitty  through  and 
through;  and  the  gentleman,  who  had  caught 
the  last  words  of  the  conversation,  stretched  out 
his  hand  for  the  beads. 

"  These  coins  are,  as  you  say,  very  valuable," 
said  he.  "  I  will  gladly  purchase  them,  and 
the  rosary  also,  if  you  will  place  a  price  upon 
them." 

He  turned  smilingly  to  Kitty.  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  clear,  dancing  blue  eyes,  the 
sweet,  firm  mouth,  fringed  with  a  yellow  beard 
and  mustache. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  fear  you  are  ill,"  ex- 
claimed the  gentleman,  hastily;  for  Kitty  had 
turned  white  even  to  her  lips.  Kitty  gasped  for 
breath,  and  said,  in  a  sort  of  hoarse  whisper, — 

"Uncle  Mark,  don't  you  know  Kitty?" 
The  next  moment  she  seemed  to  feel  herself 
caught  in  a  pair  of  strong  arms  just  as  the  floor 
was  sinking  with  her.  When  she  recovered, 
she  found  herself  upon  a  couch  in  the  back 
part  of  the  store,  with  Uncle  Mark  bathing 
her  face,  and  Mr.  Black  fanning  her. 

"There!    that's    better,"  said    Mr.    Black, 


312  THE    TWIN    EOSES. 

kindly;  "you  are  coming  to  yourself,  and  I 
will  leave  you  to  your  friend." 

"  Uncle  Mark,  is  this  really  you  ?"  said  Kitty, 
faintly.  "  I  don't  know  how  to  believe  it." 

"  Well,  Kitty,  I  never  was  in  New  Orleans 
before,  and  am  somewhat  confused  myself," 
said  Mark,  smiling,  "  but,  so  far  as  I  can  tell 
under  these  strange  circumstances,  it  is  myself 
and  no  one  else.  I  find  it  much  harder  to  be- 
lieve that  this  tall  young  lady  is  little  Kitty." 

"But  I  must  not  stay,"  exclaimed  Kitty. 
"  Aunt  Adela  has  had  no  breakfast,  and  she 
cannot  have  any  till  I  get  home.  Uncle 
Mark,  will  you  really  buy  the  rosary  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear.  But,  Kitty,  has  it 
come  to  this?  Are  you  straitened  for  the 
means  of  life?" 

"  Uncle  Mark,  we  have  not  one  thing  to  eat 
in  the  house,  except  some  coffee  and  brown 
sugar.  I  must  go  and  buy  something  directly." 
She  tried  to  start  up,  but  sank  back,  dizzy  with 
fasting, — for  she  had  eaten  nothing  more  than 
a  mouthful  of  dry  bread  since  the  day  before 
at  noon. 

"Wait  a  little,"  said  Mark.  "  Lie  still  till 
I  come  back."  He  went  out,  asking  a  question 
of  Mr.  Black  in  passing,  a'nd  presently  re- 


THE    MEETING.  313 

turned  with  some  coffee  and  crackers, — all  he 
could  find  at  the  moment. 

"  You  must  eat  and  drink,"  said  he;  "and 
the-i  we  will  go  to  market,  if  you  will  show 
me  the  way." 

"  Law  bless  you,  Miss  Kitty,  honey,  what  a 
lot  of  things  you'se  sent  in  !"  said  Chloe,  meet- 
ing Kitty  at  the  door.  "I  ha' n't  seen  so  many 
pervisions  together  this  many  a  day.  You  must 
be  keerful,  honey.  There's  no  knowin'  where 
the  next  money  is  to  come  from."  Catching 
sight  of  Mark  at  this  point,  Chloe  intermitted 
her  lecture  and  performed  her  grandest  curtsy. 

"  This  is  my  uncle  Mark,  Chloe, — the  one  I 
have  so  often  told' you  about." 

"  Bless  the  Lord  !"  exclaimed  Chloe.  "  Now 
it'll  be  all  right.  Go  up  to  Miss  Addy,  honey ; 
she's  been  asking  for  you.  You  see,  Mas'r 
Mark,"  she  continued,  after  Kitty  had  left  the 
room,  "  I'se  been  powerful  troubled  in  my  mind 
what  was  to  become  of  Miss  Kitty  when  Miss 
Addy  was  gone,  'cause  there  don't  seem  no  one 
to  take  charge  of  her;  but  the  Lord  he's -made 
it  all  right.  He  allers  does.  Bless  the  Lord !" 

"  You  have  been  a  long  time  away,  Kitty," 
said  Miss  Brush,  feebly.  "  Where  have  you 
been?" 


314  THE   TWIN    EOS  EH. 

"  To  Mr.  Black'*,  aunt,  and  to  market.  How 
do  you  feel  ?" 

"Did  you  sell  the  rosary?"  asked  Miss 
Brush. 

"  Yes,  aunt,  and  got  a  good  price.  I  have 
bought  a  large  supply  of  provisions,  and  I 
have  some  money  left." 

"  Take  care  of  it."  She  was  silent,  and  lay 
with  her  eyes  closed  for  a  time;  then  she  spoke, 
with  unusual  strength  and  clearness.  "Kitty, 
listen  to  me.  I  know  I  am  dying.  When 
I  am  gone,  ask  Dr.  Fuller  to  sell  what  he  can 
of  the  contents  of  this  house  and  raise  money 
enough  to  send  you  to  your  friends  at  the 
North.  I  made  my  will  long  ago,  and  left 
what  I  had  to  you.  There  is  no  one  here  to 
take  care  of  you ;  but  your  uncle  Mark  is  an 
honest  man,  and  will  do  what  he  can  for  you. 
Go  to  him." 

"Aunt  Adela,"  said  Kitty,  as  she  paused 
for  breath,  "Uncle  Mark  is  here, — in  the 
house.  I  met  him  this  morning." 

"  Bring  him  here,"  said  Miss  Brush.  "  Bring 
him  here,  quickly !" 

Kitty  hastened  to  call  her  uncle;  and  Mark 
was  soon  beside  the  bed.  He  saw  at  once  that 
the  end  was  near. 


THE    MEETING.  315 

"  Mark  Campion,  you  profess  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian," said  Miss  Brush.  "Are  you  Christian 
enough  to  take  this  girl,  penniless  as  she  may 
be,  and  give  her  a  home  with  her  sister  ?" 

"  I  ask  nothing  better,  Miss  Brush,"  an- 
swered Mark,  solemnly.  "God  helping  me, 
she  shall  never  want  a  home,  but  shall  be  to 
me  in  all  things  as  my  own." 

"  Good !"  said  Miss  Brush,  with  evident 
satisfaction.  "  Catherine,  I  have  not  made  you 
happy.  I  was  not  fit  for  the  charge  I  took 
upon  myself.  Forgive  me,  if  you  can." 

"Indeed  I  do,  aunt!"  sobbed  Kitty.  "I 
know  I  was  very  perverse  and  naughty. 
Please  forgive  me,  Aunt  Adela." 

Miss  Brush  smiled.  "We  may  call  it  even, 
Kitty.  Chloe  has  done  far  more  for  you  than 
I.  Be  kind  to  her — "  Her  voice  failed. 

"  She  is  going !"  said  Chloe,  in  an  awe- 
struck tone.  "Oh,  Miss  Addy,  honey,  look 
at  Jesus! — look  at  Him,  just  once,  before  you 
go  !  O  good  Lord,  have  mercy  on  her !" 

"  It  is  all  over !"  said  Mark,  solemnly. 
"  Come  away,  Kitty,  my  love.  You  have  been 
faithful  to  death;  but  you  can  do  no  more. 
She  is  in  God's  hand." 

27 


316  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

REUNION. 

'ITTY,  what  church  did  your  aunt 
attend  ?"  asked  Mark,  on  the  after- 
noon  of  the  same  day.    "  We  must 
make  arrangements  for  the  fune- 
ral as  soon  as  it  will  be  decent." 

"Aunt  Adela  never  went  to  church, 
Uncle  Mark,"  replied  Kitty.  "  She  has 
never  been  since  I  came  here, — nor  I  either, 
except  twice  to  the  Catholic  cathedral  when  I 
went  to  the  Sisters'  school.  It  seemed  so  strange, 
when  I  first  came,  not  to  go  to  church,  and  to 
see  aunt  and  her  friends  playing  cards  on  Sun- 
day evening.  It  made  me  more  home-sick 
than  any  thing  else." 

"I  should  think  so,  indeed.  But  did  you 
never  go  to  church  ?" 

"  Never, — only,  as  I  said,  two  or  three  times 
to  the  cathedral.  Aunt  Adela  said  if  I  must 
have  a  superstition  I  might  be  a  Catholic,  as 


REUNION.  317 

my  grandmother  was  before  me;  for  that  was 
at  least  venerable  and  graceful.  I  believe,  hon- 
estly, it  was  what  she  said,  as  much  as  any 
thing,  that  set  me  against  it,  to  begin  with  ;  for 
I  hated  her  so  in  those  days  that  just  the  fact 
of  her  liking  any  thing  made  me  hate  it.  Yes, 
it  was  very  wrong,  I  know;  but  you  don't 
know  all  I  had  to  bear." 

"  I  can  guess,  my  poor  child." 

"  The  nuns  were  very  kind  to  me,  even  when 
I  would  not  go  to  church.,"  continued  Kitty.  "  I 
learned  a  good  deal  from  them, — fine  work,  and 
music.  Some  of  aunt's  relations  came  to  see 
her  after  she  was  taken  down  sick,  and  wanted 
her  to  send  for  a  priest;  but  she  would  not  hear 
of  it,  and  fairly  drove  them  out  of  the  room. 
They  have  not  been  near  us  since.  I  think 
you  had  better  manage  the  funeral  your  own 
way,  Uncle  Mark." 

"  I  don't  see  but  I  shall  have  to  do  so,  my 
dear.  I  wish,  however,  that  your  aunt's  phy- 
sician would  return." 

Dr.  Fuller  arrived  in  the  course  of  the  after- 
noon, and  gave  Mark  a  warm  welcome.  He 
produced  Miss  Brush's  will,  by  which  Kitty 
was  made  her  sole  heir,  with  himself  for  exe- 
cutor and  guardian.  There  were  no  directions 


318  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

about  the  funeral ;  and  Mark  thought  it  better 
to  get  the  matter  over  as  quietly  as  possible. 

The  next  clay  but  one,  Adela  Brush  was 
laid  in  the  bury  ing-place  of  her  family. 

My  story  need  not  be  greatly  prolonged. 
The  most  valuable  of  Kitty's  possessions — the 
jewels  and  remaining  plate — were  packed  up 
and  stowed  in  a  place  of  safety.  Mark  was 
able  to  make  an  arrangement  by  which  the 
house  was  let,  furnished,  to  a  quiet,  motherly 
woman,  with  whom  Kitty  could  board  com- 
fortably till  Mark  was  able  to  take  her  home. 
Chloe  remained  in  the  house  as  servant,  some- 
what puzzled  and  put  out  now  and  then  by 
the  lady's  particular  ways,  but  happy  to  be 
near  her  dear  Miss  Kitty.  She  had  now  no 
tie  to  life  but  Kitty;  and  thus,  when  Mark  and 
his  charge  sailed  for  .New  York  in  October, 
Chloe,  with  many  misgivings,  made  up  her 
mind  to  accompany  them. 

"  I'se  an  old  woman,"  said  she ;  "  I  ha Vt 
got  many  years  to  stay,  anyhow;  and  when 
the  Lord  calls  me  home,  it  may  as  well  be 
from  the  North  as  from  the  South.  'Twon't 
be  no  further  to  go  from  one  than  from  the 
other,  I  reckon." 

They  were  obliged  to  pass  a  Sunday  in  New 


REUNION.  319 

York;  and  they  spent  it  with  Anne.  The 
visit  was  rather  unwillingly  made  on  Kitty's 
side.  She  resented  the  second  marriage  as  an 
affront  to  her  father,  and  she  had  never  gotten 
over  the  strong  impression  made  upon  her  by 
Anne's  heartless  conduct  at  the  time  of  their 
separation.  Poor  Kitty's  temper  was  destined 
to  be  her  great  enemy  all  her  life  long. 

The  mother  and  daughter  once  brought  face 
to  face,  however,  old  associations  resumed  their 
sway,  and  they  met  with  affection  on  both 
sides.  Anne  had  much  to  say  upon  the  subject 
of  Kitty's  improvement  in  person  and  man- 
ners, and  took  great  credit  to  herself  for  her 
wisdom  in  giving  her  to  Miss  Brush. 

"I  knew  she  was  just  the  one  to  manage 
you,  Kitty.  She  had  so  much  firmness,  and  I 
never  had :  my  feelings  were  too  strong.  But 
I  always  thought  you  would  turn  out  well, — 
quite  as  well  as  Rosy,  for  all  Veronica's  boast- 
ing. I  never  did  believe  in  so  much  govern- 
ment. I  believe  in  letting  nature  have  her 
way.  You  see  now  how  much  wiser  I  was 
in  letting  you  go  to  your  aunt." 

The  speech  was  not  very  consistent;  but 
Anne's  thoughts  were  never  remarkable  for 
coherency.  Kitty  repressed  with  some  trouble 

27* 


320  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

the  reply  which  rose  to  her  lips,  and  turned 
the  conversation  by  inquiring  about  Anne's 
little  boy,  now  some  three  years  old. 

"  Oh,  he  is  with  his  nurse.  He  will  be 
down  presently.  His  nurse  is  a  Frenchwoman, 
a  most  superior  person,  and  I  leave  him  almost 
entirely  to  her.  He  can  speak  more  French 
than  English  already." 

The  child  presently  appeared, — a  pale,  deli- 
cate little  fellow,  with  bare  arms  and  legs,  both 
blue  with  cold.  He  took  at  once  to  Kitty, 
and  chatted  merrily  with  her  in  his  childish 
French.  Presently  he  used  a  very  coarse — 
i  ndeed,  ind ecen t — ex  p ress ion. 

"Oh,  Louis,  you  should  not  say  that,"  ex- 
claimed Kitty,  much  shocked.  "That  is  not 
proper." 

"Nurse  says  so/'  returned  the  little  fellow, 
innocently,  and  ran  on  as  before,  saying, 
"  Mon  Dieu !"  at  every  other  word. 

"You  would  not  like  to  hear  your  child 
swear  at  that  rate  in  English,"  Mark  could 
not  help  saying. 

"Oh,  but  in  French,— that  is  different," 
said  Anne.  "  All  French  people  say  so.  It  is 
not  the  same  at  all." 

"  It  means  exactly  the  same,"  said  Mark. 


REUNION.  321 

The  more  Anne  saw  of  Kitty,  the  more  she 
was  charmed ;  and  before  Sunday  evening  she 
coolly  announced  that  she  had  quite  made  up 
her  mind  to  keep  her. 

"  You  must  see,  Kitty,  that  I  have  the  first 
claim  upon  you,  now  that  your  aunt  is  dead. 
You  could  be  very  useful  to  me,  especially  in 
teaching  Louis.  Your  French  accent  seems  so 
pure;  and  it  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  me 
to  have  some  one  I  could  depend  upon  to  walk 
with  him,  and  so  on.  And  I  am  sure  it  would 
be  the  most  natural  arrangement," 

Kitty  compressed  her  lips,  and  made  no 
answer.  Anne  went  on  urging  various  argu- 
ments, and  ended  with,  "  I  am  sure,  after  all  I 
have  done  for  you,  you  must  see  it  your  duty 
to  be  guided  by  me." 

"  And  suppose  you  get  tired  of  me,  as  you 
did  before,  mamma?  What  will  you  do  then  ?" 
asked  Kitty,  bitterly.  "  You  can't  send  me  to 
New  Orleans  this  time,  you  know." 

"  You  could  go  to  Aunt  Veronica,  if  we  did 
not  get  on  well  together,"  answered  Anne, 
simply ;  "  or  you  could  go  to  school." 

"  Thank  you,  mamma,"  replied  Kitty,  still 
more  bitterly.  "I  rather  prefer  going  to 

Aunt  Veronica  of  my  own  accord,  to  being 
v 


322  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

shoved  off  on  her  because  no  one  else  wants 
me." 

"Kitty,  what  an  idea  !  But  I  shall  talk  to 
your  uncle  Mark." 

"  No,  Anne,"  said  Mark,  seriously,  when 
Anne  proposed  the  idea  to  him.  "  It  is  not  to 
be  thought  of.  I  promised  Adela  Brush  that 
Kitty  should  be  as  my  own ;  and  I  intend  to 
keep  my  word.  You  gave  up  all  claim  upon 
her  when  you  put  her  into  Adela's  hands. 
Adela  transferred  her  to  me ;  and  I  mean  to 
keep  her." 

"  Just  like  you !"  said  Anne,  peevishly.  "  I 
suppose  you  will  let  the  child  stay  if  she 
pleases  ?" 

"  Do  you  please,  Kitty  ?"  asked  Mark. 

"  Do  you  think  I  ought  to  stay,  Uncle  Mark  ?" 
asked  Kitty,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "I  would 
try  to  do  what  was  right." 

"  There !  I  knew  she  would  stay,"  exclaimed 
Anne,  triumphantly. 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Uncle  Mark  ?" 

"No,  Kitty,  I  do  not;  nor  could  I  give  my 
consent  to  such  an  arrangement.  You  chose 
me  for  your  guardian  when  Dr.  Fuller  died ; 
and  I  prefer  that  you  should  reside  under  my 
own  roof." 


REUNION.  323 

"  Oh,  very  well/'  said  Anne.  "  I  have  done. 
It  just  proves  what  I  have  always  said, — that 
there  is  no  creature  so  ungrateful  as  an  adopted 
child." 

Kitty  burst  into  tears  and  ran  out  of  the 
room;  and  when  Mark  sought  her  he  found 
her  sobbing  as  thougli  her  heart  would  break, 
while  Chloe  in  vain  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"  Come,  Kitty,  cheer  up.  You  have  done 
nothing  wrong.  Mamma  will  think  better  of 
it  presently." 

"Then  you  don't  think  I  am  obliged  to 
stay,  uncle  ?"  said  Kitty.  "  I  wish  to  do  my 
duty;  but  oh,  Uncle  Mark,  I  earnestly  desire 
quiet  and  rest  somewhere." 

"  And  you  shall  have  it,  Kitty.  Cheer  up, 
my  dear.  We  shall  soon  be  at  home  and  in 
peace." 

I  need  not  describe  the  meeting  between 
Kitty  and  her  friends.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
she  was  made  welcome  with  all  the  love  that 
Rosy  and  Rosy's  mamma  had  to  bestow. 

Chloe  was  installed  at  once  in  the  kitchen, 
where  a  succession  of  incompetent  helps  had 
driven  Veronica  to  distraction  ever  since  Becky 
went  away.  She  is  still  living,  and,  like  many 
coloured  people  after  they  reach  a  certain  age, 


324  THE   TWIN    ROSES. 

time  seems  to  make  no  impression  upon  her. 
She  considers  Mrs.  Campion  needlessly  par- 
ticular upon  the  subject  of  dish-towels,  and 
wishes  Missus  would  keep  out  of  the  kitchen ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  they  rub  along  together 
very  comfortably.  Rosy  is  the  sunshine  of  the 
house,  and  pours  out  upon  her  younger  brother 
and  sister  all  the  love  which  was  bestowed 
upon  her  own  youth. 

If  Rosy  is  the  sunshine,  Kitty  is  sometimes 
the  storm.  She  still  feels  the  disadvantages 
of  her  early  training,  or  want  of  training, — 
still  has  many  a  battle  to  fight  with  selfishness, 
passion,  jealousy,  and  idleness.  But  her  face 
is  set  firmly  heavenward,  and  her  progress,  on 
the  whole,  is  in  the  right  direction.  She  now 
and  then  makes  Anne  a  visit ;  and  these  visits 
have  increased  in  length  and  frequency  since 
little  Louis  has  been  such  an  invalid.  The 
poor  child  is  a  martyr  to  inflammatory  rheu- 
matism, the  fruit  of  the  "hardening  process" 
he  was  put  through  in  early  childhood;  and 
no  one  can  make  him  forget  his  pains  and 
amuse  his  weary  hours  like  Sister  Kitty. 

Becky  and  her  captain  have  at  last  returned 
from  India  and  settled  near  Milby,  where  they 
have  bought  a  small  farm.  Poor  little  Jenny 


REUNION.  325 

James  lies  in  the  English  burying-ground  at 
Bombay.  Miss  Brown  still  survives,  the  oldest 
member  of  the  Old  Ladies'  Home. 

Neither  Mark  nor  Veronica  have  yet  had 
any  reason  to  complain  of  the  ingratitude  of 
adopted  children. 

"But,  after  all,  what  is  the  great  difference?" 
iso me  reader  may  say.  "You  say  Rosy  and 
Kitty  are  both  Christians, — both  walking  in 
the  narrow  way  which  leads  to  life :  so  what 
is  the  great  difference,  after  all  ?"  The  differ- 
ence lies  just  here: 

To  Rosy  the  path  is  made  as  easy  as  it  caii 
be,  by  the  cultivation  in  her  of  lifelong  habits 
of  self-control,  of  self-forgetful  ness,  of  patience 
and  gentleness. 

To  Kitty  it  is  in  a  manner  hedged  up  with 
thorns  and  built  up  with  hewn  stones,  by 
habits  of  exactly  the  contrary  kind, — habits 
of  selfishness,  jealousy,  imperious  self-will. 

With  Rosy  the  thought  of  pleasing  and 
helping  others  comes  naturally  first,  by  long 
course  of  habit;  to  Kitty  comes  first  the 
thought  of  pleasing  herself,  only  to  be  over- 
come by  such  a  struggle  as  often  makes  the 
service  or  the  sacrifice  any  thing  but  a  gracious 
one.  In  short,  the  training  of  the  one  will  be 


326  THE   TWIN   ROSES. 

a  lifelong  help  and  comfort  to  her;  that  of 
the  other  will  be  to  her  a  lifelong  hindrance 
and  misery. 

If  a  man  sows  good  seed  in  his  ground,  more 
than  one  weed  will  doubtless  spring  up  with 
it,  which  it  will  require  care  and  patience  to 
root  out ;  but  if  a  man  sows  his  ground  wholly 
with  tares,  or  even  if  he  allows  the  natural 
weeds  of  the  soil  to  spring  up  unchecked,  it 
will  require  much  hard  ploughing  and  hoeing 
and  grubbing  to  get  even  a  small  quantity  of 
good  grain  to  sprout ;  and,  after  it  has  once 
gained  a  foothold,  it  will  have  a  hard  struggle 
to  bring  ever  so  little  fruit  to  perfection. 


THE   END. 


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